Stories of the Saccharine Kind
by xmmconfesses
Summary: HPDM Slash. Fluff & Humour! Draco and Harry may not be exactly the same, they’re probably completely different. But like two pieces of a jigsaw, that are rarely the same shape, they're perfect for each other.
1. Kissing

**Kissing**

Draco liked to kiss things.  
When Draco was young, he would press his lips against his favourite tree, or his newly bought wand, which he loved. He even kissed the wall. Sometimes. When Draco felt that it looked lonely.

When he got older, he still kissed things. Secretly. Because father didn't like it. Because father said it made him weak. So he did it only when no one was looking, when no one but the house elves were home.

Draco blew kisses to the clouds and the butterflies and the star lit sky. He kissed roses and the tiger lilies that grew in the large gardens. Draco kissed almost everything but secretly and carefully.

When Draco met Harry, that first time at Madam Malkin's he didn't know who the scrawny boy with the big glasses was. He didn't care. He just wanted to kiss him. He really did. But he didn't, because he wasn't alone it wasn't safe or secret.

So when Harry rejected his hand that day on the train, it hurt. Draco was furious. But mostly he was hurt. So he threw a tantrum. A 6-year tantrum.

When he was done with his tantrum and the hexing and the name-calling, he still wanted to kiss Harry.

So he did.

He kissed Harry in the middle of the night, in the middle of a dimly lit corridor, in secret. He did it without warning and without warning as well Harry kissed him right back.

So now, Draco still likes to kiss things. But he doesn't do it alone anymore, he does it in front of Harry, with Harry, to Harry.

Draco likes to kiss the air in front of Harry. His sleeve. His Collar. His nose. His ears. His neck. His fingers. His palm. His shoulders.

But most of all Draco liked to kiss Harry's smile.

Because unlike most kisses, Harry's smile tasted of lilies and the wind.

His smile tasted of sunlight dancing across a running stream.  
His smile, tasted like morning sun on skin.

It was wonderful, brilliant.  
And oh so kissable.

Skin on Skin.


	2. Pouting

**Pouting**

Draco is brilliant at pouting.  
Brilliant.  
When he wants something, his lower lips sticks out, just a little.  
And his cheekbones develop a slight flush.  
Draco is brilliant at getting his way.  
Brilliant.

But Harry is brilliant at resisting.  
Brilliant.

It was hard at first; of course, Harry would always end up giving in. Draco's accusatory look, the slight pout, was all that was needed. Harry couldn't help it. One look and he would break down and do whatever it is Draco wanted.

Ron liked to comment that this proved that the wizarding world was doomed.

Harry would dance with Draco, even though he couldn't dance to save his life. Carry Draco up the slope-just for fun. Carry Draco down the slope-because he laughed too much and was now tired. Warm Draco. Anything.

He would buy whatever Draco asked for too, even though everyone knew perfectly well that Draco had enough to buy these things himself.

He bought Draco, a kitten, twelve roses, a whoopee cushion from one of the muggle joke shops, new silk pyjamas, a pirate hat. Anything. Everything.  
But now, Harry is getting better.  
Much better.

So when Draco asked for a toy boat, Harry merely raised his eyebrow and laughed.  
So Draco pouted.  
But Harry resisted.  
So Draco's lower lip stuck out further, trembling slightly. And his cheeks puffed out slightly as he looked at Harry through lowered lashes.

So Harry bought Draco the boat.

And Draco-went home to practise pouting in the mirror.

While Ron went to pray for the Wizarding world and the rest of humanity.


	3. Sleeping

Author's Note: I have a review! Like OMG! Thank you Mayhem! I shall aim to make Draco less girly! Hope this story is not too weird, grammatically! Enjoy!

**Sleeping**

Harry liked to watch Draco sleep.

It might sound obsessive, but Harry loved watching the rise and fall of Draco's back and the way Draco's nose twitched when the dust got in.

It wasn't like Harry really wanted to sleep anyway. Thoughts of the war and the dead usually kept him awake. Then, there were the nightmares. Draco liked to sleep more. Beauty sleep and all that, even though Harry didn't think Draco could get anymore beautiful. Watching Draco sleep, helped Harry to sleep. Watching Draco sleep and falling asleep beside him kept the nightmares at bay.

Harry loved watching Draco sleep.

So when Draco slept, Harry would trace the outline of Draco's scrunched up face with his eyes and laugh silently at the way Draco's hair turned into an ungraceful nest in the moonlight. Harry adored the way Draco looked in the night. The pale ethereal glow of Draco's skin, the contours, the angles, were enough to entrance Harry for hours.

Harry finds it amazing how Draco can smirk even in his sleep. He's seen Draco do it quite a few times, especially after a night of passionate…"exercise".

Draco also makes little noises sometimes. Very un-aristocratic noises but Harry knows not to mention these anymore. And then sometimes Draco would kick Harry too. In the most awkward of places. Draco was surprisingly strong, for someone who was all pale and bones and sharp angles.

Draco kicks Harry hard, in his sleep. Hermione thinks its suppressed anger. But then Draco kicks him in the daytime too, so Harry doesn't know for sure.

He tries not to kick back when it happens.

Draco also likes to drape his hands across Harry, his legs across Harry's. Draco's a very messy sleeper and he tends to mistake Harry for the rest of the bed. Harry doesn't mind, not really. Harry likes it best when Draco ends up on top of him, all over him, even though he initially started way across on the other side.

Harry likes to watch Draco sleep, but he likes it best when Draco's so close, he can't watch him, only feel him.

When this happens, Draco shifts close to Harry and buries his face in Harry's chest. Harry would bet that moonlight couldn't pass through when they're this close. But he's not a betting man. So he just holds Draco close and smiles into his hair.

And in the morning, he washes off the drool on his shirt and doesn't say a thing.


	4. Giving In

Giving In

He had wanted to buy the charmed gargoyles to guard the door. He had wanted to buy the huge burnished wood cupboard that was charmed to keep wine at 55 degrees. He had wanted to buy the silver and green Egyptian cotton sheets.

He didn't really like the gold and blue sheets they had decided on.  
He didn't like the weird muggle-ringing-box-thing with all the buttons that Harry had installed.  
He didn't like the bottles of pumpkin juice Harry stored in his carefully designed wine cellar.  
He especially didn't like the large black dog soft-toy that Harry had insisted on buying. It reminded him of the Grim.

He didn't deal well with muggle things and he had pictured his home to be impeccably decorated and designed- instead it was now homey and cozy.

But Harry had wanted them. So they had bought them...and the noisy muggle box with the weird moving pictures. The Bean bags instead of proper armchairs. A trampoline instead of a guest bed. Even a tent just to use in the front lawn.

He learned to live with them. The trampoline was nice. The tent was useful when the Weasel and Granger came to visit.

He had wanted to go to Wizarding Soho to shop for new robes. To eat a leisurely dinner in the new posh restaurant in Hogsmead . To come home later and hold Harry, in the comfort of his own home.

He didn't want to go fly a kite in the muddy field. To eat his dinner on the highest branch of the nearest tree. To fall into the mud because he couldn't balance and use a fork at the same time.

But Harry had wanted to. So they had gone.

It wasn't like he was whipped.

He just liked the way Harry smiled when he agrees. His green eyes sparkling, enchanting.

Besides-

It really wasn't that bad anyway when Harry finally stopped laughing and climbed down to join him in the mud.

It really wasn't that bad at all.


	5. Waiting

Authors Note: Three reviews! dies of glee! Thanks to Mayhem's angel and Mayoandsnickers for the lovely comments! Any form of insight or even maybe requests are welcomed! Enjoy!

Waiting

Draco does a lot of waiting.  
Draco waited for Harry to figure out that they were meant to be.  
Then Draco had to wait again, for Harry to screw up the courage to ask him out for dinner.  
Then Draco waited some more, for Harry to arrive for dinner.  
Normally Draco didn't like waiting. It was boring, annoying, infuriating, a waste of time and so unlike him. But for Harry, he would wait.  
And when Harry told Draco his many reasons, Draco would only nod, with a slight look of disdain, and fight the urge to step on Harry's toes till they were flat and bruised.

Draco doesn't think catching straggling Death Eaters is a good enough reason to be late for their Anniversary dinner.

Draco thinks that that's what minions are for-catching Death Eaters that is. He makes a note to find more minions for Harry soon.

Draco waits for Harry to owl him. To floo him. To tell Draco he loved him.  
Draco waits a lot.

And it was starting to get rather old.  
But Draco has learned to cope with the waiting.

As he sits at the quaint little roadside cafe, sipping coffee, waiting, watching for Harry's apologetic smile, Draco hums a song, the one Harry sings to him-off tune. The one Draco likes.

As Draco leans against the pillar at the Ministry, waiting, searching for Harry's familiar face, his fingers move slightly, as if tracing Harry's features into the air. Draco, of course, doesn't notice himself doing this.

As Draco reads a magazine, waiting, straining to hear Harry's voice, ragged from running, breathe his name, he memorises phrases and things that he wants to tell Harry. Draco does this all the time. But Draco doesn't notice this either.

However if Draco's in a particularly foul mood, Draco just kicks Harry. And ignores his screams of pain, pretending he doesn't know Harry. Draco knows it doesn't really hurt that much and Harry mutters about rabid blonde maniacs under his breath.

But most of the time Draco doesn't mind waiting that much. Because Harry buys him ice cream, hugs him, holds his hand and whispers his name. Because Harry sings horribly, can't dance, walks funny, ruffles Draco's hair and Harry giggles. Yes-giggles.

Because despite everything, Draco loves him.

Because Harry is worth the waiting.


	6. Scandalising

Author's Note: Thanks to Mayhem's Angel for another lovely review! I'm running out of ideas! Heh.

Scandalising

Draco works in the Accounts department of the Ministry and does part time potions inventing at home. Draco likes his job because he gets to count lots of money but Draco hates that Harry's always home later than him. Draco hates coming home to an empty house to wait for Harry.

Ron likes to comment that Draco is like Harry's little housewife. Draco doesn't appreciate Ron's sense of humour. If he was anybody's wife he was going to be a Trophy wife. Not some frazzled homemaker.

Stupid Weasel.

So, Draco waits by the door a lot.  
Sometimes with a huge pillow in his hand.  
And when Harry opens the door-Draco leaps on to his back and beats him with it, for being late.  
They usually collapse into a heap, laughing. The orange glow of the sun like a warm blanket. Their door, still open.

The neighbours, of course, can't stop staring.

Harry has hurt his back many times like this. But he doesn't mind. Draco is not that heavy. Not really.

If it's a cold rainy day, Draco waits by the door, in one of Harry's old ugly shirts.  
It reaches down to his thighs and is nothing like the fine Oxford cotton shirts Draco likes. But Draco doesn't mind, he likes how the ugly big rags smell of Harry. It's the only reason Draco hasn't burned them all.  
Draco waits on such days-with a warm cup of cocoa in his hands.  
And when Harry opens the door-Draco holds it up to him, with both hands. Smirking.

Harry's usually drenched, the silly moron still doesn't remember to charm himself before stepping out into the rain, but Harry still can't help grinning when he sees Draco.

If Draco's had a bad day with Ministry mongrels or just with remembering the past, he sits by the door.  
With knees drawn up to his chest as he watches the clock and waits for Harry.  
And when Harry opens the door-he usually trips over Draco.  
Draco will then look at him, through his fringe, elegantly arched eyebrows in a frown and lips in a big sulk.  
Harry-will kneel down and draw Draco close and mutter about how he would destroy everyone last person in the Accounting department if he had to.  
And all will be right in Draco's world again.

Harry made things better; he destroyed people who annoyed Draco- like the Dark Lord. Harry was Draco's destroyer…

Harry is already used to the evil cackles Draco lets out at these times.

If it's a Friday, Draco waits by the window instead.  
His eyes will watch for Harry's familiar gait.  
And when Harry opens the door-Draco will turn to smile at him.  
A brilliant smile of squabbles, tickling, giggling and everything.

And when Harry opens the door- he tries not to run towards Draco.

He tries not to pounce on Draco and kiss that brilliant smile of his.

Because, the neighbours-are staring again.


	7. Obsessing

Author's note: I hope I don't kill anyone with the choking sweet stories. HEH! Thanks to _zuko'sfirebendingirl_ for the nice but rather worrying review! Nobody die okay? Special thanks to Mayhem's angel! My constant reviewer! I'm sad to say that this is probably is not as nice as the rest but well-enjoy if you can!

**Obsessing**

Sometimes, when Harry is not around, it feels like Draco's heart would break into two.

Draco worries if Harry is safe behind his cluttered desk.

What if a pile of files crashes down and smashes his Harry to bits?

Draco worries if Harry is eating right.

What if he chokes on those distasteful sandwiches he always buys?

Draco worries if Harry is safe on his Auror missions.

What if another stray curse bounces off the wall and curses Harry with red hair-like the weasel. Again!

Draco thinks that if this happens again, he may just cry.

At times, it feels like Harry's heart would tear the moment Draco walks away. The moment Draco is too far for Harry to hear his heart.

Harry misses Draco when Draco goes to the toilet.

Harry misses Draco when Draco goes to grab his coat.

Harry misses Draco when Draco goes to the kitchen to look for ice cream.

Harry misses Draco too easily. Harry misses Draco too much.

It is obvious they're in love. Too obvious.

Draco's photo is in the middle of Harry's desk, in the left hand corner of his desk, in his wallet, on the second level of his shelf. Oh, and in the breast pocket of his shirt.

Ron and Hermione think he's crazy. Obsessed. Draco's not that beautiful. Harry claims that Draco puts them there. But we know better.

Harry really does think that Draco is just that beautiful.

Harry's photo is only in Draco's wallet.

But Draco still wears the tacky ring that Harry bought for him at the spur of the moment, 6 years ago, on a chain around his neck.

Draco also still wears the leather band Harry gave him. The one with the dragon and lion-entwined. Draco hasn't taken it off for years.

It's starting to smell.

Pansy claims that it's starting to meld into Draco's skin. She always says this scathingly, with a hint of jealousy in her words.

Draco always ignores her and looks lovingly at the worn thing.

When they're together, it is even worse. Harry won't let go of Draco. Draco won't let go of Harry. Crossing the road is dangerous. Walking in a crowded place more so.

They're friends pretend not to know them. Passers by think they're Siamese twins or just plain crazy. At least they stopped wearing matching clothes.

Draco combs Harry's hair-or at least tries to. Harry cuts Draco's meat into bite sizes and sometimes feeds him. They're legs are always so close and so intertwined that you can never tell whose is whose.

They're so sweet it's nauseating.

But they're happy.

They're more than happy.

They're in love.

Damn everything and everyone else.


	8. Adopting

I just realised I don't have any disclaimers. So here's one and it applies for every chapter!

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry or Draco in any way shape of form. I just like writing sappy love bits of crap that involve them._

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****Adopting**

"You want to adopt a runt dragon?" Harry shouted incredulously. "And by runt you mean…"

"It'll only grow up to about the size of a horse." Draco muttered in a self-righteous tone. "And watch your tone, love, or you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"You want to keep a fire-breathing, carnivorous animal, the size of a horse but you won't let me adopt a kitten?" Harry was almost red in the face now.

Draco merely smirked and kissed Harry on the lips. "You could adopt a kitten too. But I don't know how well it will react to living with a Dragon."

Harry stared at Draco, mouth hanging open. "Don't do that Harry-dear, you look like a goldfish, or worse yet, you look like a Weasley."

The fireplace rang.

Harry had finally cast a ringing charm for floo calls a few weeks ago. After Ron had caught Draco and him on the couch for the 18th time.

The fireplace rang again.

The gnarled head of the aged owner of the magical creatures adoption centre appeared. "Master Malfoy, I'm sorry to say that the Dragon you were interested in has just been adopted. Might we interest you in a kitten?"

Draco, of course, threw a fit.

He sat in his favourite spot on the couch and glared at Harry for 30 minutes before launching in a tirade that lasted for another 30 minutes.

But somehow at the end of it all, they both ended up on the couch.

All over each other like white on rice.

For another 30 minutes.

Luckily, this time, when Ron called, the fireplace rang first.

The next day, Harry brought home an orange and yellow kitten.

Draco sulked, Draco raved, Draco glared. But the kitten remained a kitten.

Harry named the kitten Drago while Draco gave it the evil eye.

The day after that, when Ron came over to visit, the kitten peed on Ron's left shoe.

Draco immediately went out to Diagon Alley to buy the kitten a silk blanket and a whole tuna steak.

Draco was happy.

So Harry was happy.

Ron was-not so happy.

And the kitten-peed into Ron's right shoe while Draco cheered it on.

"Pee Drago my precious! Pee!"


	9. Shopping

A/N: I've hit double digits in reviews!WOOHOO!I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint anyone! I'm glad I made you guys laugh! Nice name _green-eyed blonde. _Thanksto _Dezra, green-eyed blonde, _and_ zuko'sfirebending_ girl for reviewing! The reviews really really make me happy! Feel free to tell me anything you think might make a good topic! Thanks!

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****Shopping**

Draco doesn't like going to shop for groceries. Draco especially doesn't like going to shop for groceriesat the muggle supermarket place. But he goes. Because Harry likes to.

Harry loves walking down aisles and aisles of colourful muggle food products. Harry also loves pushing the metal cart withthe red handle.

Draco figures Harry was dropped on the head quite a bit as a child. But he keeps this to himself.

Draco imagines that he can see the muggle germs floating about around the packed shelves. Around his Harry. Harry doesn't know this but Draco always casts an impenetrable shield around the both of them before they step out. Draco doesn't want the muggle germs anywhere near himself. Or Harry.

The muggles stare at them at the supermarket. Not because they know who Harry is. Not because they recognise Draco's typical Malfoy angles and blonde hair. Not even because they think two men shopping together is shocking and gossip worthy. No, the muggles, especially the women, watch them with hungry wide eyes because they look a hundred times better than any other muggle in a 100 mile radius. Draco knows this. So he walks around with a smirk and a swagger. Harry just laughs.

Harry doesn't know how to pick fruits. He just grabs and chooses as if guided by some hidden force, with no apparent care for how ripe or spoilt the fruit is. Draco sometimes wonders if Harry's scar affects his brain.

Draco does the fruit picking now. His Malfoy-eye, so attuned to perfection, can somehow always pick out the sweetest peaches and the rosiest apples. However, Draco doesn't touch the fruits. He points at them regally while Harry puts them into the bag. Draco refuses to touch the fruits till Harry has _Scourgify_-ed them at least three times.

Draco is obviously paranoid.

Draco obviously doesn't like the supermarket.

He may swagger and smirk but he watches every muggle with suspicious eyes. He gives glares at the cashiers and frowns at the muggle paper money.

However Draco does like one thing about grocery shopping. He likes it when Harry slips a hand into his and smiles at him- a contented smile. Draco's smirk usually grows 10 times wider when this happens.

Harry really doesn't like pushing the shopping cart that much. He just likes the indulgent look Draco gives him. Harry really does know that a brown orange is a spoilt one. He just likes the self-satisfied smile Draco has when Draco manages to pick out the nicest fruit in the pile.

Harry really doesn't like shopping at the supermarket all that much.

He just likes how Draco stays close to him and glares at everyone who looks at him.

He just- likes spending time with Draco.


	10. Conversing

A/N: Here's a very short chapter, purely for the fun of it. I think it's rather sappy but oh well. Sap is what my stories are all about. _Itchking of Angmar_ your name is so amusing! And to _Mayhem's Angel_, review whenever you can darling, I'm just so happy you like what I write!(by the way, if Draco wanted to keep a horse-sized Dragon in his house, no matter how impossible, he would find a way-he'd probably sulk till the house enlarged orsomething. HAHA)To _green-eyed blonde_ I have a H/D obsession too. HAHA! So there. Thanks to _Weirdgatina_ and _Iceboll _for the encouragement! Well, enjoy!

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****Conversing **

"What do you see when you see a Boggart?" Harry asked casually while burying his face further into Draco's chest.

"Have I not told you this before?" Draco muttered into Harry's hair, eyes half closed with contentment.

"No. I bet it's something embarrassingly frivolous. Like yourself with reddish hair and a sunburn." Harry snorted as he said this.

Draco's face was twisted in a grimace. Partly because the image Harry described was truly horrific and partly because Harry's words came close to the truth-when he was younger at least.

"It used to be an image of me…with freckles and fat legs" Draco mumbled all of this very fast. His cheeks tinted red, not just because of the firelight.

Harry's amusement was unmistakable. He guffawed and giggled and snorted, as Draco tried to throw Harry off himself and onto the floor.

They both ended up on the floor.

In a tangle of limbs warmed by the dancing fire.

"You said 'used to'. What is it now?" Harry whispered, lips just inches away from Draco's own.

"You. Hurt. Or leaving." Draco's words were tentative and almost fragile.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not without you." Harry murmured before catching Draco's lips with his own.

They remained a tangle of limbs throughout the evening.

And when Draco decided it was time for a leisurely bath, Harry let him go off first, opting to watch Draco sashay into the bathroom.

"Your legs do look a bit fat now that you mention it." Harry smirked.

"And you know you love them." Draco smirked right back.

With Harry near him, with him, safe, nothing could scare Draco.

Not even porky legs.


	11. Infecting

Author's note: Okay, I know that a spell or a potion could easily cure the flu, but let's pretend the apocathery is closed and St Mungo's is full …or something. coughs nervously Somebody told me this chapter was terribly lame. HAHA! I can't agree more. The style isslightly different from the first few chapters so I hope you guys still like it.Enjoy!**

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****Infecting**

Draco had expected to go home to wait for Harry.

Draco had expected to teach the kitten to ruin Ron's pants and order the house elves around while he waited for Harry.

Draco had not expected to go home to find Harry waiting for him.

Draco had definitely not expected to go home to find Harry, under a thick blanket, surrounded by a sea of used tissues, sniffing on the couch.

Draco had not expected this so much that the first thing he did was to laugh at the way Harry looked.

Harry was of course less than pleased.

But his angry sniffles only served to further amuse Draco.

Draco grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his nose.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded.

"Making sure I don't get infected by your evil germs." Draco said; voice muffled heavily by the dark red pillow.

"But I thought you lub'ed me! Aren't you supposed to coddle me and make me soup?" Harry whined piteously.

Draco just continued to watch Harry, with the pillow hiding everything except his grey eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Get with the coddling!"

"I'm waiting for you to defeat the germs, just like you defeated the dark lord." Draco stated calmly.

Harry just stared incredulously at Draco.

Harry looked just about ready to burst into tears, or flames.

"Oh sod it" And with that Draco threw the pillow carelessly aside and went to sit with Harry in the sea of tissues.

"We should conjure a boat. We may drown in your mucus." Draco quipped as he gingerly cleared a spot beside Harry and joined him under the blanket.

Harry was not amused, but he allowed Draco to pull him into a hug.

They drank soup for dinner that night. On the couch. With Harry in Draco's arms.

While Drago, the kitten, pranced about the growing sea of used tissues.

The next morning, Draco woke up with a sneeze.

Harry, half better, coddled him on the couch, and poked fun at his red nose.

Drago got lost in the monumental sea of used tissues.

And Draco conjured a boat.


	12. Arguing

A/N: This is one of my favourite recent chapters! Pansy's wedding is based on my teacher's wedding oO I hope you guys like it! I sincerely wonder how many ppl read this without ever reviewing!LOL!Nobody has to review-seriously- but I just wonder. Thanks _Mayhem's Angel_ for another2 reviews! Let me clarify that Draco does NOT have fat legs. He's svelte and Suave. HEH!**

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**Arguing **

"What do you think I should wear to Pansy's wedding?" Draco asked as he dropped onto the couch beside Harry.

"It's butterfly themed. I don't know how butterfly-ish a guy can get." Harry muttered, eyes fixed on the television set but hands already reaching for Draco.

"Have you ever seen a green and silver butterfly, love?" Draco questioned as he snuggled closer to Harry.

"Mhmm…" Harry uttered idly.

"I'm pregnant with Dumbledore's baby." Draco said casually.

"Uhuh…" Harry answered, hand stroking Draco's hair, eyes still glued to the television.

Draco was annoyed.

Scratch that. Draco was livid.

Draco was ready to maim, destroy and kill.

Draco settled for kicking Harry off the couch.

Hard.

"What was that for?" Harry demanded, rubbing his back where he had landed.

"I said I was pregnant with Dumbledore's spawn and you just said 'uhuh'! Pregnant! Dumbledore! LOVE CHILD!" Draco shrilled.

"MERLIN'S BALLS! ARE YOU? HOW? WHY? EW! I'LL KILL THE PERVERT!" Harry screamed back.

A pillow to the face stopped Harry's rant.

"I can't believe that muggle-moving-box-pictures are more important to you than me! ME! Sex-god, love of your life, apple of your eye, most handsome man in the entire known universe! ME!" Draco was on a roll.

"I though we were talking about butterflies…since when did you and Dumbledore…you know. EW. And can you even get pregnant?"

Harry tried to defend himself.

Harry, as usual, could not out argue Draco.

"It was merely a test of how much you were actually listening! Apparently, you weren't. And NO. I never did anything with Dumbledore. EW? He's more likely to do that with a lemon drop than me anyway. Why are we even discussing this! The fact is…"

And the argument went on.

And on.

And on.

Till Draco suddenly realised that they were arguing about how possible it was to legally marry a hard-boiled sweet.

So he burst out laughing.

And Harry stared, dumbfounded.

"You do realise how off topic we are don't you. What were you watching anyway?" Draco asked, laughter taking away any ill feeling he had from before.

"The video Mr Weasley sent. He took it when we were at that picnic with the Weasleys. Remember? He sent me the bits with us in it." Harry murmured, slightly embarrassed.

Draco looked to the muggle-box-screen only to see himself and Harry trying to push each other down the hill.

They were giggling.

"I look better." Draco smirked.

"So you were technically distracted by me while you ignored me?" Draco questioned Harry as he pulled Harry back towards the couch.

Harry just settled for kissing Draco.

"So, again, have you ever seen a silver and green butterfly?"

"Uhuh…"

The urge to maim and kill was returning.

But before Draco could throw Harry off the couch again…

"Just kidding."

"But I still think you'd look really gay in a butterfly suit."

"And your point would be?"

"No point at all" Harry murmured before drawing Draco in for a kiss again.

And all was right in the Potter-Malfoy household again.

Until of course 48 minutes later.

When Harry suggested Draco go naked to Pansy's wedding since he had so much trouble deciding on what to wear.

Then all hell broke loose.

And they both ended up going to Pansy's wedding-naked.

Just kidding.


	13. Betting

A/N: Written when I had NO Internet connection AND NO TV to watch on a RAINY day. UGH. I don't think it's very well done. But I decided to post it all the same. Feedback would be nice, but not required. To_ Zuko'sfirebendinggirl:_ I guess they could go to someone else's wedding naked. HEH! I'll think about it. Thank you _chocoholicbookworm_ (I can so empathise with your name!HEH!) and _MyHiddenStory_ for the really sweet and encouraging reviews! Enjoy if you guys can!

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**Betting**

"I WON THE LOTTERY!" Draco screeched, dancing about the living room, aristocratic grace flushed down the proverbial toilet.

"What! Really?" Harry shouted above Draco's incessant and gleeful humming.

"No. Not really. I just felt like shouting that." Draco dead-panned, not pausing in his joyful rendition of what seemed to be Swan Lake.

"Oh. Okay." Harry muttered to himself before settling down back on the couch.

"NO YOU BRAINLESS FOOL! I DID REALLY WIN THE LOTTERY!" Draco shouted while jumping onto the couch and shoving a crumpled piece of paper into Harry's face.

"Very funny, Draco, I'm not falling for that a second time."

Silence reigned.

A pillow was _accio_-ed.

Harry was soundly trounced with said pillow.

"I won't share with you the money I won then." Draco said in a smug tone.

"How much did you win?" Harry asked, with glasses askew, trying to recover from the pillow battle from before.

"A HUNDRED POUNDS!" Draco gestured triumphantly.

Harry burst out laughing.

"Draco, love, we don't need the money…" Harry ventured, careful not to annoy Draco, who was now dancing, what looked like the waltz, with Drago.

"You're just jealous. Because I won the lottery." Draco smirked.

Harry stared. "Yes. Terribly jealous. And how will your spend your new fortune?" Harry asked, amused by Draco's obvious delight.

"I, will…" Draco, lost in thought, was still holding Drago by the forepaws. The kitten's feet were off the floor and it look none too amused.

"I guess I will just put the money in the bank." Draco muttered disconsolately.

"With all the other hundreds and hundreds of pounds you already have?" Harry laughed.

Draco glared at Harry.

Drago glared at Draco who was still holding him off the ground.

"Yes." Draco sulked, finally putting Drago down on the floor.

"Next time, I'm not betting money." Draco huffed.

"You could always bet with me…with…you know…erm…" Harry suggested tentatively, face turning slightly red.

"OOOOO. Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Draco rubbed his hands gleefully.

"You're one kinky blonde aren't you?" Harry laughed.

"Yes. And you're one kinky brunette." Draco grinned before sweeping Harry into a show-stopping kiss.

"Okay. I bet you can't get Drago to wear that silly green cat frock you bought." Harry whispered, breathless from the kiss.

"Bring it on."

And so began the betting life of a kinky blonde, a kinky brunette.

Drago, was not amused.


	14. Missing

A/N: I realise most of you probably didnt like the last chapter. Heh so I shall post this to make up for it! I apologise for the last-not so nice chapter. This is a really long chapter compared to the others, I got sort of carried away. Thanks to _Zuko'sfirebendingirl_ and _Mayhem's Angel_ for the encouragement! HAHA. Poor Drago seems to be rather abused by this evil author. WHoops? Well, enjoy if you can!

Missing

1.

Harry misses Draco a lot. He misses the way Draco smiles. He misses the way Draco looks in his oversized sweaters. He misses the way Draco smirks at him. He misses the way Draco prances about the house in the nude, just to infuriate him-and maybe the neighbours. He misses the way Draco leaps onto his lap and takes his breath away-in every sense of the phrase. He even misses the way Draco snorts.

Harry wishes he were by Draco's side a lot. But he's not; Harry is in the middle of a swamp on an auror training mission while Draco is miles away. So Harry tries not to wish so much. Because it's disappointing when wishes don't come true.

When Harry has to train under the sun, he likes to pretend Draco's cheering him on and complaining about how hot the sun is. He imagines Draco under a huge umbrella, on a deck chair, with lemonade, regally waving a sign that says, "Harry! Make it quick! So we can get out of this blasted sun!" Somehow it makes the sun more bearable.

When Harry has to hike through the mud, in the rain, he likes to pretend Draco is in a designer raincoat, sulking in the mud beside him. He imagines Draco gingerly picking his way over fallen branches and toadstools, demanding to be carried. He imagines Draco whining about how his two thousand-galleon raincoat is getting wet. It somehow takes away the bone-chilling cold that usually comes with the rain.

When Harry is trying to fall asleep, he likes to pretend Draco is just nearby, already asleep. He likes to pretend he can hear Draco's soft breathing and feel Draco's breath ghost across his own skin. Harry conjures two pillows before he sleeps. One is to rest his head on. The other is to help him sleep. He pretends that the pillow is Draco. Because he can't sleep without Draco in his arms.

Pretending makes the missing more bearable.

2.

Draco misses Harry a lot when Harry goes on those blasted auror training missions. The house feels empty without Harry, even though there's still the kitten and the house elves.

Draco misses the way Harry looks in the morning, all dishevelled and sleepy. He misses the way Harry looks just after he comes out of the bath, in only a towel and a rakish grin. He misses the way Harry screams at the muggle-moving-picture-box as if the people in it could hear him. He misses Harry's voice. He even misses Harry's off tune renditions of the song about a sex bomb.

Draco wishes that Harry were by his side instead off in some swamp learning how to catch bad people more effectively. Draco constantly toys with the idea of robbing Gringotts, so that Harry would have to spend all his time trying to catch Draco instead of a cold in some miscellaneous swamp.

Making plans to conquer the world also helps to make missing Harry more bearable. But somehow, Draco always ends up scrawling Harry's name and little hearts all over his plans.

Draco can't sleep without Harry nearby. So he conjures an extra pillow and draws a little scar at the top of it and ugly glasses somewhere below that. He names the pillow Harry and sleeps with it close to his back. It's definitely not the same but it's better than nothing.

Draco doesn't eat much when Harry's not around. Without Harry next to him, food doesn't taste as good. Even chocolate and strawberries and champagne taste bland and boring. Nothing tastes good without Harry there to share it with him, or feed him. So Draco spends most of dinnertime moving his food around the plate and staring at the empty space beside him.

"Daddy's not coming home yet, Drago precious. Come, let's go practise how to pee on Weasel's pants."

The kitten waits by the door for Harry to come home. Sometimes Draco waits with it. Other times he just sits by the stairs and looks at the photos of Harry and him, hugging, laughing, kissing, dancing. Only the kitten is there to see Draco's eyes turn slightly red.

Draco really really misses Harry a lot when he goes on those blasted auror training missions.

3.

On the day Harry is supposed to come home, after two long weeks, Draco takes the day off. Draco wakes up at the crack of dawn to wait by the door for Harry. Harry's not due till 5 hours later, but Draco doesn't care. He waits patiently, his heart jumping at any and every sound.

4.

On the day Harry is supposed to go home, he walks with a skip in his step. Nevermind that each skip-step he takes, he kicks up mud at his fellow aurors. Harry stares at his watch instead of Moody during the debrief. Harry vanishes his tent instead of folding it up and returning it to the officer in charge. He walks around with a dreamy smile on his face. He can't wait till he gets home. Harry can't wait till he gets home to Draco.

5.

Draco falls asleep while waiting for Harry. He can't help it-he didn't sleep well without Harry. The kitten curls up on Draco's lap and sleeps with him.

The click of the lock wakes Draco up.

6.

HARRY IS HOME!

7.

Draco leaps off the steps, throwing Drago off his lap in the process.

The kitten yowls in protest.

But neither Harry nor Draco hears.

They're too busy making up for lost time.

8.

It's only twenty minutes later that they realise that Harry left the door wide open and that Draco was waiting for Harry in the nude.

But then the neighbours are already used to this.

So nobody cares.

9.

Harry laughs at the Harry-pillow that Draco made. He laughs at Draco's supposed plans for world domination as well. He laughs and pulls Draco in for long sweet lingering kisses.

The house doesn't feel empty anymore.

10.

The next time Harry goes for an auror training mission, Draco has decided to go with him.

Harry asks Draco to bring along a large umbrella, a deck chair and lemonade.

Draco figures that missing him has made Harry a little touched in the head.

Maybe it has.

But Draco doesn't care.

Because he knows missing Harry made him a little crazy too.

As long as he had Harry for company in the loony bin-he didn't care.

Because wherever Harry was-was where he belonged.

Everything else, including sanity, be damned.


	15. Defeating

A/N: THIS has to be my FAVOURITE chapter of them ALL! And after I wrote it and sent it to my friend to vet, she told me it reminded her of the Pearl Swine comic! HAHAHA! If you want the linkjust drop me a note-I have trouble posting it.It's so fitting!Thanks to _MyHiddenStory, Greeneyedblonde and spinnerette_ for the really really lovely reviews!_Zuko'sfirebendingirl_-I love the kitty too!HEH!_InkStained Scarlet_-Do you really think Draco sounds like a Stepford Wife? OO _The Stopper_-I like things on the tame side!HAHA! _Mayhem_- the numbers were sort of to separate the scenes and situations.

Bra told me to wait till I got 35 reviews before posting this as I really am running out of ideas but heck. This story deserves to be posted.

Anyway ENJOY! (if you share my twisted sense of humour-that is) **

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**

**Defeating**

"Harry! I see a Death Eater!" Draco whispered hastily into Harry's ear.

"What! Where?" Harry exclaimed, hand flying to his wand and eyes scanning the area for danger.

"There!" Draco breathed.

"What? The duck?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Yes! The duck. It's giving me the evil eye! It's an animagus Death Eater! I just know it!" Draco half shouted in hurried excitement.

Harry merely stared at the duck, unconvinced.

"You stun it, I'll grab the kitten, and we run for safety Okay?" Draco instructed, already inching towards Drago who was chasing butterflies nearby.

Harry took out his wand and discreetly pointed it at said duck, murmuring under his breath.

Nothing happened.

The duck remained a duck.

"Harry! Have your evil-defeating skills suddenly left you? Let's go!" Draco shrilled.

"It's not a Death Eater, love, stop being paranoid. It's really just a duck." Harry laughed.

"I refuse to believe that. It's looking at me funny! What happened to your Scar-senses. Are they not tingling? It's an evil duck!" Draco huffed, unhappy at Harry's easy dismissal of ultimate danger and evil.

Harry laughed loudly and pulled Draco into a hug.

"I love you. You know that right?" Harry asked, entwining his fingers with Draco's and bringing Draco's knuckles to his face to kiss.

"If you love me you'll defend me! For all we know it could be _you-know-who_ reincarnated!" Draco shrilled, waving his free hand wildly in the direction of the pond, and the duck.

Harry just smiled serenely and kissed the back of Draco's hand again.

Draco was not amused. Evil loomed and apparently his Harry-the-destroyer was faulty.

On to plan B.

Pointing imperiously at the duck, which was still staring at him, Draco commanded, "Sic it, Drago-precious. Destroy the evil duck with your powerful kitten claws!"

The evil duck was never destroyed.

Drago apparently was more interested in chasing his own tail then saving Draco, and the world, from ultimate doom by duck.

The duck remained by the pond in the park.

Its eyes followed Draco as Harry dragged him, and the kitten, home.

Needless to say, Draco ordered duck for dinner.

And Draco couldn't help but smirk at his plate as he cut up his food into tiny little pieces.

Draco ate with relish and chewed with a vengeance.

Die, evil duck, die!

And that was how Draco saved the world from ultimate destruction.

Sort of…maybe…okay not really.

Never mind.


	16. Exhibiting

A/N: The wonderful title is courtesy of my best friend Bra! This is probably the shortest chapter ever! So I hope you guys don't mind. Enjoy if you can! Thanks to Wyrn Flynt and chocoholicbookworm for the very encouraging reviews. Mayhem-I love this chapter too!HEH!Zuko'sfirebendingirl-Draco does'nt have a duck phobia.It's just the duck. HAHA!Tenue-this is not really a story actually but yes it'll be continued!HEH! This is posted early for MyHiddenStory who experienced doom by duck. HAHA!

**

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Exhibiting **

"Harry? What in Heaven's name are you wearing?" Draco asked, in a slightly strained voice.

"My pyjamas!" Harry replied, waving his arms in the air and twirling to emphasise his point.

"Merlin's Balls. I'm dating an eleven year old!" Draco

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded, slightly insulted.

"What material is that? Oh my god! It looks like flannel! Stripes? I'm dating a juvenile fashion crisis! And you saved the wizarding world? Are you sure Voldemort is dead?"

Draco ranted. Draco raved. Draco glared at Harry's flannel pyjamas as if to set them on fire by sheer will.

But the pyjamas remained striped and ugly.

Damn.

"I don't see how what I wear to bed has anything to do with me saving the world." Harry sniffed.

"We are getting you new pyjamas! Silk!" Draco declared.

"For now, you can just sleep in the nude."

Harry blushed.

Draco smirked.

Harry leaned in for a kiss but Draco stopped him.

"I can't. I feel like a paedophile."

So Harry slept in the nude till they had time to buy new pyjamas.

It wasn't so bad.

At least now Draco had an excuse for walking around the house nude as well.

He was "keeping Harry company".

And the new neighbours-thought they accidentally moved into a nudist colony.

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Ok. So not my best. Hope you guys will forgive! 


	17. Indulging

A/N: An extremely short chapter featuring Drago. Simply because I felt like it. And sort of to go with the really short chapter I just posted. I don't think it's well written but I just wanted to describe the image of Drago attacking Harry for ice cream. Partly inspired by zuko'sfirebendingirl for her constant show of love for Drago. Feedback is welcomed!

**

* * *

****Indulging **

Drago's forepaws were bent low, his front chest touching the ground, his tail- swaying in the air.

Drago was hunting.

With a pounce, Drago launched himself into the air, front claws extended and gleaming.

Drago's claws caught onto Harry's sweater weaves.

Then-Drago began climbing.

"Drago! What are you doing? Down!" Harry shouted, half frantic as Drago's claws were poking through his sweater into his abdomen.

But Drago was undettered.

A true hunter never gave up mid-hunt.

And Drago was a true hunter.

With a yowl and a spring, Drago had launched himself off Harry's front and onto his out stretched right arm.

Success!

Harry's ice cream bowl was knocked out of his hand and onto the floor, with Drago following close behind.

"Congratulations Harry. We've raised a great hunter. Drago caught an ice cream bowl."

Draco smirked, secretly proud of his kitten's deft display of grace and cunning.

Harry laughed, amused.

Lazily, Draco stretched out and rubbed Drago on the head.

Drago purred contentedly.

"Come Drago, let's go to the park to hunt butterflies, shall we?" Harry murmured to the happy kitten.

"What? No! The evil duck is still there!" Draco exclaimed hurriedly.

Drago paused in his licking and peered at Draco with large soulful kitten eyes.

"Fine. But you're protecting me from the duck." Draco retorted sulkily to the purring kitten.

A meow was all Draco got in return.

Drago couldn't be happier to comply.

The duck wasn't that scary anyway.

Drago figures that his darling owner was just a little bit wimpy.

But it was okay-Drago would protect him.

Because Drago was a brilliant hunter.

He managed to hunt down a bowl of ice cream did he not?

"You're a bad influence Draco. I can't believe you managed to teach the kitten how to smirk."

And that was that.

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In case any of you are interested I have a link to what I picture Drago to be in my profile...I think. I really suck at all this html and stuff. woo. 


	18. Designing

A/N: Thanks to all those that reviewed! _Wryn Flynt_-A new kitten?Congrats! _Zuko'sfirebendingirl_-I was planning to name my future kitten Drago too!HAHA! _MyHiddenStory_-Aw.Poor Harry is just too in love with Draco to notice. _Wolf-in-sheeps-clothing_-I love this too!HAHA! Any ideas are welcomed! I am running out of ideas! Hope you guys like this one. Laugh your leather pants of! Woo!**

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Designing

"He's wearing his underpants outside his pants, Harry. You can't possibly expect me to believe that this is Superman!" Draco laughed.

"It's his costume! See the 'S' in the front?" Harry tried to explain.

But Draco was having none of it.

"He's wearing tights! Muggles are ridiculous!" Draco raved, unconvinced.

"It's his costume! He really is Superman!" Harry retorted, mildly insulted.

"Why don't you have a costume?" Draco asked suddenly.

Harry choked on his juice.

"No, seriously, why don't you have a costume? You, unlike thismuggle-alien-fashion-crisishere, really saved the world!" Draco demanded, rather annoyed that the world hadneglected designing a proper costume for his Harry-the-destroyer.

Harry coughed, nervously. "You're not thinking of making me one are you?"

"What a great idea!" Draco declared, jumping off the couch excitedly.

Crud.

The next day, Draco ordered swaths and swaths of different materials.

Harry prayed.

Draco locked himself in the spare room and weird whirring and ripping sounds rang out from within.

Harry prayed some more.

After 24 hours, 15 minutes and 8 seconds spent in the workroom, Draco finally announced that he was done.

Harry would know because Harry was watching the clock. Apprehensively.

"Voila!" Draco shouted with a flourish, whipping out a brown blur from behind him.

Harry almost fainted with anticipation and fear.

"You have to open your eyes to look you know." Draco muttered, rather miffed at Harry's reluctance to look at his work of brilliance.

Harry cracked open his left eye to gaze suspiciously at Draco and said masterpiece.

"Erm…where's the rest?" Harry asked, curious.

"That's the beauty of it, love. There is no rest!" Draco proclaimed.

"You made me a costume that consists of only leather pants?" Harry exclaimed.

Draco pushed the pants into Harry's face.

There were 2 large bright yellow lightning bolts, outlined red, on each butt cheek of the dark brown pants.

More crud.

And down in the front, there was another lightning bolt, right in the middle, with the end pointing downwards.

Merlin's balls!

"Draco…you don't expect me to actually wear this, do you?" Harry asked, silently thanking the gods that Draco didn't design this before the war actually started.

Draco glared angrily at Harry.

"I made this for you! Me! Draco Malfoy! Who has never made anything for anyone, ever! Me! Draco Malfoy! The light of your life! The stars in your sky! The cherry on your cream! Made this! For you!"

Harry knew it was going to be one of those days.

Harry knew he could never win.

So, Harry took the leather pants with a weak smile and went to try them on.

At least Draco was happy.

The next day, Harry decided to wear his constume to work, Draco was of course delighted.

Everyone, of course, stared.

And when a stray curse bounced of the wall and burned off the right side of Harry's costume, Harry silently cheered.

Draco was devastated!

"Don't worry Harry, I made 7 pairs! One for each day of the week!"

Darn.

And to Drago's horror, Draco came up with tiny kitten leather pants for him the following day.

"You're going to be Harry's sidekick!" Draco decreed joyously.

Oh Bollocks.

* * *

HAHA. Semi-kitten torture I guess. But don't you think darling Drago would look positively adorable as Harry's sidekick? Harry-the-Destroyer and Power-kitten-claws to the rescue! NAD NA NA NA NA! Heh. 


	19. Saving

A/N: I love this chapter. It felt so good to write it. I figured it was Harry's turn to be saved. I'm thinking of stopping my writing for awhile. There's nothing much else I can think of and like I think my grammar is atrociously embarrassing and so is my spelling. You guys are lovely! Thanks to _Tenue, MyHiddenStory, Zuko'sfirebendingirl, wolf-in-sheeps-clothing_(Hehe?) for reading and reviewing. Hope you like this chapter.

**

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Saving **

"This is a stick up! Everyone get down on the floor!" A rough voice bellowed.

Screams filled the bank.

"A what? The floor? The floor is filthy!" An annoyed, condescending voice rang out above the crowed.

"I said get down!" The man dressed in plain black and a mask shouted, waving his gun about.

"Merlin! Are you wearing a pantyhose on your head?" Draco's incredulous voice echoed throughout the small area.

"Draco. Get down! He has a gun!" Harry whispered urgently, while tugging Draco down to the floor.

"Why are we whispering? Why are you listening to him? He's a muggle who wears a pantyhose as a hat cum mask! The floor is filled with muggle germs Harry!" Draco whispered back, almost whining.

"He has a gun. A bullet could kill you." Harry replied hastily, hoping that Draco wouldn't suddenly stand up and turn the muggle robber into a sofa or something. The Ministry would kill Harry if Draco did, saviour of the wizarding world or not.

"A what? What's a stick up? What are we supposed to stick up? The gun? Pish posh. I have an impenetrable shield around us. There are muggle germs floating about you know." Draco retorted, sounding rather confused and irritated with Harry.

"An impenetrable shield? Why? Because of muggle germs? Oh Draco." Harry said fondly, smiling tenderly at Draco.

The man lying slightly further front of Harry and Draco were staring at them with wide eyes.

"It's a bloody robbery and you're smiling? Are you both daft in the head?" The man, who was wearing a tweed checked coat, whispered hoarsely.

"Oh shut up, you tweed-wearer. Harry here happens to be the saviour of…" But before Draco could finish, Harry had clamped his mouth shut with a gentle hand.

Oh. Right. Muggle

"I told you we didn't need one of the plastic credit things. But you just had to come here to apply for one, didn't you. Now look what's happened. Some muggle maniac wearing lady's underwear on his head is making us lie down on a muggle-germ-filled floor!" Draco muttered distastefully, obviously not pleased at the turn of events.

"Draco we are not having an argument about this again. You yourself complained about having to carry around all that muggle money when going out shopping." Harry retorted heatedly.

"Oh fine." Draco said sulkily.

"You there! Quiet!" The armed robber shouted at Draco, while gesturing to the bank teller to hurry with the money.

"Stupid muggle. Tell me what to do will you." Draco muttered angrily.

"Draco…" Harry said warningly.

"Let me handle this Harry. You've done enough hero work for the week." Draco smirked.

Draco shook out his wand from where he usually kept it, up his sleeve.

Harry watched apprehensively.

The last time Draco had said that, he had turned a reporter into a toadstool.

Pointing his wand discreetly at the armed robber, so the muggles nearby wouldn't notice, Draco muttered an incantation, too soft for Harry to make out.

Poof.

"Quack."

The armed robber, who was in the midst of harassing the bank teller with his gun, was suddenly harassing the frazzled bank teller with a duck instead.

A live duck.

The armed robber, stared at his hand in alarm, for held in his fist was not his pistol handle but the neck of a very angry looking duck.

"Is that the same duck I think it is?" Harry asked curiously, voice tinged with awe.

"Yes it is. Fitting is it not?" Draco smirked.

Draco had, in a show of amazing magical skill, switched the armed robber's gun with the 'evil duck' from the park.

Harry was impressed.

The duck turned its head slowly towards the armed robber, who was still stupidly holding it by the neck.

Bad move.

The duck's eyes took on an evil glint, just before it began flapping its wings.

"Holy crap! What the hell!" The armed robber's rough voice filled the room, which was now silent, except for the heated quacking of the duck, and Draco's muffled sniggering.

Struggling out of the robber's grasp, the duck was now on his face, beak jabbing rapidly at the robber's head and feet kicking at his face.

The pantyhose offered no protection whatsoever.

Getting up from his position from the floor, Draco began brushing at his clothes, as if to rid himself of the muggle germs from the floor.

"I told you that duck was evil. Look at its carnal instincts." Draco announced haughtily to Harry.

"But it's doing good right now. It's saving us." Harry replied.

"Correction. I saved us. The duck is just satisfying its carnal lust for blood." Draco retorted.

"My hero." Harry laughed.

The noise level in the bank was picking up now, although most of the bank patrons were contented to remain on the floor.

The faint sounds of sirens seemed to be approaching.

The duck was still attacking the highly bruised and battered robber.

Harry calmly walked towards the nearest bank teller, who was still staring-mouth agape- at the duck and robber. "Hi. I'd like to apply for a credit card please?" He said sweetly, jerking the poor lady out from her shock.

"Y-yes. Of course. J-just one moment. I'll get the f-forms." The bank teller replied unsteadily, eyes still not leaving the horrifying sight of the robber being subdued by a raging duck.

The police arrived seconds later.

The duck was wrestled away from the robber and sent back to the park.

Damn.

The robber's gun was found in the plant pot beside the chairs. Harry looked inquiringly at Draco who just winked in reply.

The robber was sent to the hospital for treatment before being carted off to the police station.

In between all that, Harry somehow managed to apply for his credit card.

And the first thing Harry bought, with his shiny new credit card, was a nice wooden plaque on which he magically carved the following:

_**-Draco Malfoy-**_

_Harry Potter's hero_

Draco couldn't be more delighted.

Drago-was just unhappy he missed out on all the action.


	20. Stabbing

This silly author's note: HELLO! Long time no post! Shall post this now in thanks in a way to xCrAzYxGuRlx who told me that anonymous reviews weren't allowed. I FIXED IT! Anyone can review now, so if you have any comments or mistakes to point out-FEEL FREE! I welcome anything at all!WOO! Hope you guys like this one! Thanks to all those that reviewed! So sorry you had to log in to review-Now you need not because-I FIXED IT! (cheap thrill I know)

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Stabbing**

"AAAARGH!"

Harry's shout of pain rang out into the night.

An answering yowl was heard from Drago who was angry at being woken from his beauty sleep.

Silly humans.

"What the…Harry?" Draco asked, in shock, hand still gripping his fork.

"Merlin! I'm really sorry I had to go for another trip but you didn't have to stab me with your fork!" Harry grimaced, gesturing wildly at his thigh where a silver fork was embedded.

Oops.

"You said you'd be back tomorrow!" Draco retorted, indignant.

"I managed to persuade Moody to let me back early!" Harry explained, waving his arms about.

"Early! Early? It's 3 AM in the night! I thought you were another muggle-maniac in a pantyhose!" Draco shouted back, glaring.

"I thought you'd welcome me with open arms." Harry said rather sulkily.

Making a small noise of annoyance, Draco pulled his fork out of Harry's thigh, a little less gently than he could have.

"OW! Why did you stab me with a fork anyway? What happened to your wand?" Harry demanded rather heatedly.

"I left it in the bedroom." Draco muttered, right hand still holding his slightly bloody fork.

It was then that Harry realised that Draco was half naked and holding a plate of cake.

"Midnight snacking? Draco…" Harry murmured.

Draco only ate past midnight when he didn't eat in the daytime.

"Missed you too much to eat. Stomach was making too much noise though." Draco blushed.

Harry melted.

But before Harry could comment on how sweet and cuddly Draco was, "Come on. Let's get you out of those clothes and into something more comfortable." Draco smirked, grabbing Harry by the hand.

"It hurts. Kiss it better?" Harry pouted, raising his thigh to emphasise his point.

"Bedroom first. Kisses later." Draco laughed.

Bestowing a short happy kiss on Draco, Harry let Draco half carry him up the stairs to the bedroom, laughing all the way.

After all, it was the least Draco could do after stabbing him with a dessert fork.

And Drago, who slept in their room, didn't get much sleep that night at all.

His newly reunited owners kept making weird noises.

All. Night. Long.

Silly, noisy, humans.

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No points for guessing what kind of noises they were making. HOHOHO! A little innuendo there for my best friend Bra, who thinks most of my fics are too G. HAHA! How's that for PG-13. HEH HEH HEH! 


	21. Defending

A/N: I haven't written anything in quite awhile, the chapter called "stabbing" was actually written a week back but unposted. Well, this morning I couldn't sleep because this story was lurking in my head and refusing to let me rest. So here it is. In a way this is also for _Zuko'sfirebendingirl_ and _MyHiddenStory_ who somehow are always among the first to review. IRower-I agree about the "3 in the morning" thing, I wrote that fic around 1 in the morning so my brain wasn't functioning well.Thanks for the ideas-I'll see what I can do. To my other readers-I hope you like this. And I hope no one sues me for animal abuse...HEH!

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* * *

****Defending **

" Harry! There's a big, hairy, unbelievably ugly man staring at me!" Draco whispered hurriedly into Harry's ear.

"What! Where?" Harry shouted, head whipping from left to right, muttering angrily under his breath about lecherous old men looking at _his_ Draco.

But Harry couldn't find any big, hairy, unbelievably ugly men. On their left were a young boy and his mother and on their right was a bald, albeit not so good looking, elderly man.

"Draco, darling, is this another one of those 'Let's see how possessive Harry can get' plans of yours?" Harry said fondly, rubbing his head against Draco's hair.

"Don't be ridiculous. The man is right there! Behind that poor excuse of a moat!" Draco retorted, body half behind Harry and hands gripping at Harry's left shoulder.

"Draco? Are you trying to hide behind me? I promise I won't let the ugly man grab you." Harry laughed.

"Harry! He's right there! He just bit into a branch, Harry! A branch! He's huge! Are you blind? Is there something on your glasses? Quick! Destroy the ugly man!" Draco hissed, burying his face in Harry's neck, left hand coming up from behind Harry to jab accusingly in the direction of what seemed to be the Gorilla enclosure.

Oh.

Harry couldn't help laughing.

"Draco! That's a Gorilla! Not an ugly man."

"Stop laughing Potter! Whatever it is it's looking at me funny!"

Harry just laughed even more at Draco's use of his last name.

In the midst of his laughter, Harry somehow managed to get a proper look at the Gorilla.

The Gorilla really was looking at Draco funny. It looked sort of mesmerised…

Why that lecherous ape really _was_ staring at _his_ Draco.

Using his left hand, Harry pushed Draco further to the right till he was hidden completely behind Harry.

Nobody was allowed to look at_ his_ Draco that way.

Draco didn't argue and continued muttering into Harry's shoulder about scary, hideous men who were apparently named Gorilla.

Even the ugly man's name was ugly!

The Gorilla actually had the cheek to look miffed at the disappearance of Draco from its view.

In fact, it even went so far as to get on its hind legs and pound on its chest in anger.

Harry was not impressed.

Looking about to see if anyone was watching and finding the coast clear, Harry took out his wand and discreetly pointed it at the roaring silverback ape.

The ape's roaring stopped suddenly and its legs began doing what appeared to be a rendition of Lord of the Dance.

Harry Potter: one. Perverted ape: None

At the abrupt end of the ape's bellowing, Draco slowly began to raise his head from its position in the crook of Harry's neck.

Smirking imperiously at the bewildered ape that was still tapping to some unkown rhythm, Draco drawled haughtily, " And that's what you get for checking me out you beast." All initial fear of the ugly, hairy "man", forgotten.

Harry merely laughed again, pulling Draco in for a quick kiss.

Draco, of course, wanted tostay behindand gloat but Harry was already heading towards the next enclosure and the spell on the ape was ending.

So Draco hurried after Harry.

After all, who knew how many more big ugly hairy men lurked about.

Who knew indeed.


	22. Smuggling

_A/N:_ Another chapter of Harry and Draco going to the zoo. The two chapters were supposed to be one but I couldn't really join the two plots together. If you could call them plots that is. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I know my line of stories are mainly about Draco and Harry but seriously-it's secretly all about the kitten. HAHAHA. Anyway take it as if this is the second time Harry and Draco go to the zoo- both avoiding the Gorilla enclosure religiously. Heh! Glad to know ppl actually read this! _Mayhem:_ don't worry bout the not reviewing n the late anything-I'm so happy that you're all reading this! _Green-eyed blonde_: Writing forever?I guess but I'm on holiday now-I'll still update but less frequently next time. HEH! Thanks to all those that reviewed and read-Enjoy!

**

* * *

Smuggling **

"It's sad that we couldn't bring Drago here," Harry sighed, while positioning his hand over Draco's shoulders.

"We couldn't?" Draco asked curiously, with a hint of mirth in his tone.

"We couldn't possibly have brought him here, it's not very safe for him." Harry explained patiently.

"It's not? But the other day when we were watching the muggle-moving-picture-box the voice in it said that cats were the kings of the animal kingdom." Draco retorted, unconvinced.

"It's called a television, Draco love. I've told you so many times. And Drago's still a kitten. Besides, he's a house cat." Harry said, ruffling Draco's head genially.

"Don't mess with the hair, Harry. And since Drago's a kitten he's like the prince of the animal kingdom, correct? So shouldn't we bring him here to let him meet his future lowly subjects?" Draco argued, indignant.

A sudden meow from Draco's chest halted Harry's reply.

"Merlin! You brought Drago didn't you! That's why you wanted to wear that huge jacket! You smuggled him in!" Harry raved, waving his arms above his head, frantically.

Draco pulled down the zip of his coat slightly and Drago's orange and yellow striped head squeezed out through the small opening.

Gazing inquiringly at Harry who was still waving his arms in the air, Drago tilted his head to the left and gave a questioning meow.

"Ignore daddy, Drago love, he gets like that sometimes. It's the scar you see, but we don't talk about such things." Draco whispered in a conspirative tone to Drago.

"It's not the scar Draco! You brought a 1-month-old kitten to the zoo! The zoo!" Harry shouted.

Drago yowled at Harry's loud tirade.

"Hush. You're scaring our poor baby!" Draco admonished, easing Drago out from within his jacket.

Harry grabbed Drago from Draco. Pressing Drago close to his chest,

Harry looked about nervously.

"We have to bring him somewhere safe! If the zoo curator sees him he'll take Drago away! And if the carnivorous animals see Drago they'll try to get at him and scare him!" Harry said heatedly.

"Ridiculous!" Draco replied, bending to peer at Drago who was hanging in Harry's arms, "We're going to bring our little prince to meet his future minions."

"Draco! This is no time to be fooling around! Drago could get hurt!" Harry shouted, bending to put Drago down on the floor so he could wave his hands about in the air.

"Drago won't get hurt. He can take care of himself. After all he is Prince and future monarch of the animal kingdom." Draco announced proudly.

Their argument continued for a while more before Draco suddenly realised that Harry wasn't holding Drago anymore.

In fact, Harry's hands were too busy waving about in the air to hold anything at all.

"Harry? Where's Drago?" Draco asked nervously.

Oh crud.

"YOU LOST DRAGO?" Draco shouted, hysterical.

"I…I must have put him down somewhere during our argument…" Harry stammered, in shock.

"Merlin! And you were the one going on about his safety!" Draco screeched, annoyed.

Harry was currently bent low, scouring the ground and nearby bushes for any sign of Drago. Draco, on the other hand, was standing with hands on his hips, glaring at Harry's bent form.

"Stop looking. He probably got bored and went without us to look over his future domain. This is all your fault! I wanted to see my little darling reigning over his lowly subjects."

"Draco, this is not the time to depart on some fantasy trip. Drago is _not _the future monarch of the animal kingdom. He's just a kitten! For all we know he may havebeen mauled by a bear by now." Harry hissed, wishing for all the world that he had put some sort of tracking spell on Drago.

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain that?" Draco drawled, pointing vaguely to the bear enclosure.

Harry jerked his head up in shock.

Drago had somehow wormed his way into the bear enclosure nearby.

ARGH!

However, Drago wasn't in the process of being mauled to death by a rabid bear, in fact, Drago was sitting regally on his haunches, meowing haughtily at a very non-plussed bear.

Merlin's balls!

Swaggering over to Drago, in a manner befitting a proud parent, Draco turned back momentarily to smirk at a dumbfounded Harry.

"Come on. Let's go pick up our little Prince and get some ice cream on the way home. I think that's enough mingling with the masses for now." Draco told Harry.

Scrambling up from the floor, where he had sat down in shock, Harry ran to catch up with Draco.

Together they reached the bear enclosure only to find the bear pushing a fish towards the comparatively diminutive kitten, as if in offering of peace and loyalty.

Well I'll be.

"Come on Drago love, daddy's bringing us for ice cream." Draco called out to the kitten in a singsong voice.

Giving a last meow, Drago turned smartly on his hind legs and gracefully leaped out of the enclosure and into Draco's open arms.

"My little prince." Draco whispered tenderly, while stroking the purring kitten.

Harry gazed wonderingly at Drago.

Maybe Drago really was future monarch of the animal kingdom.

After all, stranger things have happened.

"Aw! Look Harry! Our darling Drago's smirking again."


	23. Comparing

A/N: The words in italics to separate the sections are stanzas from a poem I wrote. The first paragraph of italic words is another poem I wrote about Harry and Draco. Hope you guys like them, and the chapter. Thanks to _Irower_ who suggested music taste for a chapter, and _Mayhem_ who suggested taste in food a long time ago. (I think) Thanks to all those who reviewed! Even the flame I got-but erm-can you guys not flame me for HP/DM -flame me if you think my writing sucks ok? Thanks! Enjoy!**

* * *

Comparing **

_Black White_

_Night and Day_

_They Balance each other_

_They complete one another_

_Without one the other is none_

_Together in an instant_

_Then will there be completion_

_They are without effort-_

_A study in perfection_

They both have very different tastes in music.

Draco loves jazz and orchestral pieces. Harry loves more upbeat songs-any upbeat song.

Draco doesn't like buying muggle-music. Harry buys a new CD every month.

Draco regards Harry's muggle-music system with absolute disdain and horror. Harry adores his music system and polishes it lovingly.

Draco loves the Saxaphone. Harry loves the Violin.

It would seem that they had nothing common at all in terms of music taste.

_Dance with me,_

_Twirl, whirl, swirl in time_

_To rhythm and rhyme_

Harry doesn't like to but he still goes for stuffy orchestra performances with Draco. He goes happily, with a smile on his face and Draco's hand in his.

Draco may not like the music Harry likes but he still lets Harry play those silly upbeat songs he loves so much. Draco also occasionally dances to them too, just to see that awed and mesmerised look on Harry's face.

Draco doesn't go with Harry to buy muggle-music, instead he stays at home and prepares a warm bath for Harry and helps him wash off the muggle-germs when he gets home.

Harry goes to buy a CD but usually ends up spending more on the chocolates and cakes that he sees on the way back. He buys them for Draco, because he knows Draco loves desserts.

Draco doesn't like Harry's music system because there are too many buttons and they boggle his mind. But Draco does like how Harry talks him through them each time they listen to music together.

Harry adores his music system but he adores it not for it's piano black finish and amazing base. Harry adores it because Draco had ordered it for him from a muggle shop for his birthday 3 years ago.

Draco loves the Saxaphone because of the way it's usually swaying almost in tempo to the music, the way it shines under the spotlight and especially because it sounds like Harry crooning.

Harry loves the Violin because of way the bow dances across the strings, the way its burnished wood gleams, the way the melancholic notes resonate in the air. He loves it because its elegance reminds him of Draco.

_Walk with me,_

_Step, jump, hop, glide_

_Just stay close by my side_

They both have very different tastes in food.

Draco likes to lick off the cream from his Oreos- he rarely eats the biscuits. Harry usually just throws the whole thing into his mouth, cream, biscuit and all.

Draco doesn't eat much but he likes to eat different kinds of foods all at one go. Harry doesn't care what he eats, just as long as he gets to eat a lot of it.

Draco likes his coffee a deep black colour, bitter and strong. He loves the tangy taste of unsweetened plain coffee. Harry likes his coffee with lots of milk and sugar. He loves the sweet smell of coffee tempered with whip cream.

Draco loves blue cheese, foie gras and birds nest soup. Harry can't imagine how anyone would want to eat duck's liver, drink swallow's saliva and consume mouldy cheese with biscuits. Harry prefers Kraft, normal duck meat and plain water.

It would seem that Harry and Draco had nothing in common food wise either.

_Talk with me,_

_Breathe, whisper, and murmur_

_Till all else except you is a blur_

Harry picks apart his Oreos when he's with Draco. He hands the side with cream to Draco and eats the biscuit once Draco is done licking. Ron always gags at this but Draco doesn't care what the Weasel thinks and Harry is usually too busy watching Draco licking to notice.

Draco usually orders the food, but Harry eats most of it. Draco orders the salad and only eats the romaine; Harry eats the beetroot, the onions and the croutons. Draco orders the calamari and only eats two pieces; Harry finishes it for him. Harry doesn't mind because he's not as fussy as Draco. And Draco regales Harry with his witty repartee as Harry finishes up what Draco refuses to eat.

Draco likes his coffee black because the colour reminds him of Harry's hair. Draco loves his coffee strong and untainted because that's what Harry was-strong and untainted. Harry likes his coffee with a lot of milk because the pale colour of the brew reminds him of Draco's flawlessly pale skin. Harry loves the bitter taste of coffee tempered with lots of sugar and whipped cream because that's how Draco was-acrid to some, but oh so sweet to Harry.

Harry may not know how to eat the delicacies Draco so adores but he tries. They both usually end up laughing anyway-expensive foods all forgotten. Draco may not really like plain water and Kraft cheese or the duck from the roadside vendor but as long as Harry feeds it to him and enjoys it with him, Draco doesn't care.

_Stay with me_

_Now, later, till the sky falls down._

_Be with me._

_Forever-till kingdom come._

Draco and Harry may not be exactly the same; they're probably completely different. They're opposites in fact.

But like two pieces of a jigsaw, that are rarely the same shape or size- they're perfect for each other.

_Perfect._


	24. Trying

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They made me so happy! Thank you _Tenue_ for the suggestions! I'll think about it! And to answer _Mayhem_-no I'm not stopping there-but it really probably will taper off soon-less frequent updates and stuff because school is starting and I'm running out of ideas! I was going to stop awhile back because I honestly didn't think anyone really read this much but now I know people do! So I'm still here. This short chapter is inspired by my own inability to remember how to spell Weasley after so much writing from Draco's point of view. HAHA. It's short and not very well written so I hope you guys don't mind-just really needed to get it out of my system. Enjoy if you can!

**

* * *

Trying **

Draco had trouble remembering the Weasel's name.

It wasn't his fault. He'd spent most of his life calling the Weasel, "Weasel" and it was hard to change suddenly, even if Harry had asked him to three years ago.

Oh. He did it again didn't he?

Draco really tried. He even stuck little notes around the house. It was an unrefined thing to do but Draco was getting desperate.

Harry's smile always faltered a little when Draco called the Weasel a "Weasel".

Dang. There it was again.

The little notes always had heavily blacked out spots. Parts where he had written Weasel or Weasely instead of Weasley.

"Must call love-of-life's best friend -------------WEASLEY"

He had even taken to sticking notes on the Weasel himself.

"Please call me Weas-----ley"

He stuck them onThe Weasel'shand, forehead and shoulder.

To no avail.

Stupid Weasel kept ripping off his notes.

Of course what Draco meant to say was Stupid Weasely…Stupid Weasley.

Harry had smartly suggested calling the Weasel "Ron".

Draco still shudders at that thought.

It was fine with Granger because "Granger" couldn't really be turned into some sort of degrading nickname.

Except maybe "Ranger", but that was just idiotic.

Harry knows that Draco tries his best and so he forgives Draco when Draco charms the sofa to bite Ron's behind and when Draco teaches the kitten to pee on Ron's socks and shoes.

Harry can't help but forgive Draco, especially since Draco looks so adorable when he's sorry.

Ron knows that Draco tries his best, so he forgives Draco too.

Or at least Hermione makes him forgive Draco too.

However there is no task too insurmountable to a Malfoy.

If Harry wanted Draco to call his best friend by his legal name, then he would.

So the next day, Draco helped the Weasel apply for a formal name change at the Department of Records, Ministry of Magic.

Ronald Weasley was hereby renamed Ron The Weasel.

Draco was a genius.

* * *

Also thanks to SugarDimple who reviewed every single chapter at one go! WOW! Glad you liked it! Oh and if you guys have any suggestions about Draco's parents they're very much welcomed! I have no idea whether I should include them as like approving or grudgingly approving or like totally out of the picture. Suggestions? 


	25. Taking

A/N: Okay, a point to note about the last chapter. _Mayhem and SugarDimple_-Ron threw a fit over the whole name changing thing, it's just sort of nicer to end with Draco not caring what Ron thinks. I am sure the name was duitfully changed back. HAHA! Oh and I'm really agonising over the Malfoys because I was thinking of writing a Father's day piece. But I have no idea how to do it! Don't really like the ending to this piece and I wasn't going to post it but my best friend likes it so here it is!**

* * *

Taking**

Draco likes taking photos.

Harry regrets introducing digital cameras to Draco.

Because now, Draco won't stop taking photos.

Draco sneaks into the bath and takes photos of Harry undressing, bathing and even of Harry on the toilet bowl.

Draco also wakes up in the middle of the night to take photos of Harry sleeping, dreaming and snoring.

He takes photos of Harry eating, laughing, singing, walking and even of Harry choking.

Draco takes photos of himself too. He loves how he can pick out the best shots and how he can time the camera to take photos of himself making manly poses in front of the mirror.

But Draco especially loves taking photos of Harry and himself. The living room, the stairway, the bedrooms and the hallways are riddled with photos of Harry and Draco.

Only the kitchen is free of their pictures, mainly because Draco believes that good-looking men do not belong in kitchens.

There are photos of them laughing and playing with Drago. There are snapshots of them hugging, sleeping and kissing. Wizarding photos and muggle-photos as well.

Hermione observes that they usually wear the same kind of smile in the photos.

Draco's smile is more of a proud grin. It's self-satisfied and amused. It was more of a smirk, in fact, as if saying to the camera, and the rest of the world, "Mine! HA!"

Harry's smile is more secretive. It's adoring and filled with wonderment. It's the smile of someone who somehow tamed a Hungarian Horntail dragon but doesn't know how he managed it. It's a smile meant only for Draco.

In the photos, Harry is usually half facing Draco. It's as if Harry can't even take his eyes off Draco even for that few moments to look at the camera.

Draco always faces the camera, but his head is usually tilted towards Harry's, his hand- always holding some part of Harry; Harry's neck, shoulder or waist. It's as if Draco can't bear to be even a hair's breadth away from Harry.

Ron always asks why they have to stand so close.

Harry and Draco usually just smile at this.

It's because it hurts to be far apart.

Of course they have photos of other people too. They have photos of their parents, their friends and their darling Drago interspersed between the photos of themselves.

Pansy thinks their house is like a huge photo album.

Draco likes photos because he likes looking at them and also because he looks good in them.

Harry likes photos, because they're filled with memories and wonderful smiles.

Draco likes taking photos because he wants to capture as many moments of his life with Harry as he can.

Because every single moment is perfect and precious.

Harry likes taking photos simply because Draco likes taking photos.

Because whatever makes Draco happy, makes Harry happy too.


	26. Piercing

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed! Writing this really amused me! I couldn't stop giggling at the image of Draco AND Harry AND Drago wearing earrings and swaggering down a cobble stone road. WOO! This is for my best friend Bra, who so loves men with piercings-let's hope her boyfriend doesn't look too idiotic with an ear stud. To boys with sexy earrings!Cheers!

* * *

**Piercing**

"Harry? Do you think I should get a tattoo?" Draco asked as he made himself comfortable, half on Harry and half on the couch.

Harry choked on the popcorn.

"Or maybe I should get an earring." Draco continued, heedless of Harry's noisy coughing.

Harry choked some more.

"Or maybe we should both get one."

Harry stopped breathing for a while.

"We could even wear matching ones! Little lightning shaped ones! We could even get one for Drago!" Draco announced, happily clapping his hands together at the great idea.

Drago yowled loudly in protest.

"Why on earth do you want ear holes?" Harry asked, incredulous and shocked at Draco's out of the blue interest in body piercing.

"Not ear holes, love, earrings. All the cool muggle men have them and muggle things are very fashionable right now. A Malfoy is always at the frontier of wizarding fashion trends. As the love-of-my-life, you should be just as hip." Draco clarified.

"Ear holes are needed to wear earrings, Draco." Harry explained indulgently.

"I have ear holes already." Draco half admonished, gesturing lazily to his ear cavity.

"No. No. Ear holes are little pin sized holes that are punched into your ear lobe, with a sort of stud gun." Harry said, amused at Draco's ignorance.

"Punched? Stud gun? Is that like the muggle weapon but only meant for hot young men?" Draco asked; his curiosity piqued.

Harry laughed.

"No. It's a sort of hole puncher the jewellers use to give you your ear hole."

"But I already have an ear hole!" Draco raved, indignant.

Pulling Draco's head down to his lap, Harry fingered Draco's ear lobe gently and said, "They poke a hole here."

Draco choked on the popcorn.

"WHAT?" He shouted, leaping up from his position on Harry's lap.

"How else do you think the earrings stay there?" Harry snorted.

"How would I know? Muggle type magic I suppose." Draco retorted, rather annoyed.

Harry just laughed some more.

Draco gave Harry a kick on the shin and sat down next to him to sulk.

"My pristine Malfoy skin! My perfect flawless body! Pierce it? Willingly? Never!" Draco muttered angrily.

"Come on. If you really want one, we could both get one. I heard from Hermione that it's like an ant bite." Harry cooed comfortingly while pulling Draco's head back onto his lap.

"Ant bites hurt you moron." Draco sulked even more.

Harry just smiled and continued to play with Draco's hair.

The next day, Harry ordered platinum clip-on hoops for Draco.

They weren't little lightning bolts but Draco still adored them.

At least he needn't let some muggle poke holes into him to wear them.

That weekend itself, Draco and Harry went to Diagon Alley with matching hoops hanging from their left ears while Drago sported his own miniature kitty version.

They looked good enough to eat.

All the witches and wizards alike couldn't help but stare hungrily at the wizarding world's most beautiful couple and their adorable little kitten.

That day itself a new wizarding fashion trend was born.

And all the muggles couldn't help but wonder about the sudden shortage in hoop earrings in England.

* * *

A/N: There really are Harry's-scar shaped earrings available for sale! Go to google images and type in earrings lightning and the official Harry Potter lightning bolt earring pictures will appear. I am sadly very highly amused! 


	27. Bursting

A/N: Based on a suggestion by Irower-thanks for your idea-this is rather different but I hope you still like it! Hope the rest of u like it too.I wasn't planning to post it because the whole writing style seemed very unnatural to me. HEH. But Bra claims it's hilarious. So here it is! (If you don't agree it's probably because Bra has a very twisted sense of humour :p )

**

* * *

Bursting **

Harry had many bad habits.

Harry liked to read in the toilet. It was infuriating, unrefined and absolutely disgusting.

Draco believes that while sitting on the toilet bowl, people should spend their time in quiet contemplation.

Draco believes that Harry shouldn't read while waiting for inspiration to go.

No, Draco believes that Harry should sit there and stare at the wall and admire the mosaic patterns that Draco had ordered installed specifically for that reason.

Of course Harry doesn't always do as Draco believes.

Draco, to counteract this nasty habit of Harry's, developed his own habit.

Draco habitually bursts into locked toilets with a triumphant "AHA!"

Not all toilets of course, just those in his house.

It's a counter measure, to ensure that Harry is not reading for inspiration again.

Of course this whole bursting into locked toilets had many side effects.

The first time Draco had burst in, Harry had fallen off the toilet in shock, dropping the book onto the damp floor.

Stupid Harry.

The second time Draco had burst in, Harry had cut himself with the shaver.

Silly Harry.

The third time Draco had burst in, he had caught Harry in the midst of undressing.

Sexy Harry.

After awhile Harry had gotten used to Draco bursting in.

Ron sadly had not.

On one of the nights that Ron and Hermione were over for dinner, Harry had gone to the kitchen, Draco who had earlier been looking for Drago had assumed that Harry was in the toilet again.

This time, however, when Draco burst into the toilet with a triumphant "AHA!" he didn't find Harry with a book.

He found Ron.

The neighbours thought someone was being murdered.

Harry thought that rogue Death Eaters were attacking.

Hermione thought that Draco and Harry were doing _things_ again.

Drago thought that the evil duck had somehow infiltrated the house and was attacking Draco.

They all thought wrong.

Ron couldn't stop gibbering about being violated and Draco couldn't stop trying to claw his eyes out.

Both had to be _obliviated_.

Harry-still reads in the toilet.

Draco-still bursts into the toilet

And Ron-suddenly developed a weird habit of going to the toilet with his back to the door.


	28. Threatening

_A/N:_ I know some of you were expecting the whole angst ridden deal when it came to Draco and his parents, especially Lucius. But I couldn't do it! I keep picturing Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy as slightly different, older versions of Draco. So here it is! Thought of on the night of Father's day itself and written the very next morning! Posted later due to late editing. HEH! Enjoy if you can!

_**Warning:**_ _You will not understand this chapter if you like roller coasters. Said author is a wimp who is terrified of them hence the premise of the fic. Trust me-my friend who likes roller coasters doesn't get this fic one bit. You have been warned!_

**

* * *

Threatening **

"Harry, you love me right?" Draco drawled while walking towards the dining table where Harry was reading the Prophet with his morning tea.

"Of course I do, love." Harry laughed, folding up the paper and opening his arms to invite Draco into his lap.

The chair was small but Draco just laughed and settled himself on the chair with Harry, half on Harry's lap, half between his legs.

"And you'd do anything for me correct?" Draco asked again, wriggling to make himself comfortable.

"Yes…" Harry replied, drawing out the word, slightly suspicious of Draco's intentions now.

"And what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, correct?" Draco asked again.

Silence followed Draco's question as Harry's brain worked furiously at the number of possible things that Draco could have done to bring on such a series of questions.

"Merlin! You signed us up to live in a nudist colony didn't you?" Harry shrilled, trying in vain to jump up and rave.

It was lucky that Draco wasn't that light.

"No. But that's not a bad idea actually." Draco smirked. "I was just wondering if you would want to help with my gift for father, for Father's Day."

"Your father hates me, Draco." Harry muttered sulkily, settling back down on the chair.

At least he needn't move into a nudist colony.

"Pish-Posh. He's just sulking because you defeated his ugly-mouldy-shrivelled boss." Draco said, dismissing Harry's suggestion with a few graceful waves of his hand.

"Draco, he sends me death threats every week! Just four days ago, he sent me a knife soaked in blood! With a note saying 'you stole my son you muggle-loving fool. Give him back or there will be consequences!' Consequences!" Harry half shouted with frustration.

"You did sort of steal me away, I barely even floo-call them anymore and you do love muggles. Consequences could mean a number of things. Besides, I asked mother, she says that it's not blood, just heavily concentrated cherry juice. As if my father would do anything so crass as to slaughter a chicken." Draco retorted breezily.

Harry just settled into dreary contemplation about the irony of the situation, muttering under his breath about crazy aristocrats who wouldn't slaughter chickens but would sign on to serve under blood-lusting-maniacs.

"Besides, maybe if we get him a gift together, he'd forgive you." Draco offered the pouting Harry.

Harry just snorted derisively.

"I was thinking of getting him this." Draco said, drawing Harry's attention to a magazine he was holding, jabbing enthusiastically at the picture.

"You want to get your father a roller coaster?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"It's a muggle-torturing-device no? And muggles actually pay to let themselves be tortured. See here? It says 'terrifying drops and hair raising turns.' It's a new age, legal muggle-torture-device." Draco announced gleefully.

"You do know muggles design and make those correct? And that most people actually like riding them, right?" Harry ventured.

"Father would never know if we don't tell him!" Draco replied happily.

"How are we supposed to give him one? It's huge and I don't think it can be easily bought off the market like that. It takes time and space to build, love." Harry laughed at Draco's enthusiasm and disregard for reality.

"With a little magical know how, money, and stolen muggle-designs, anything is possible." Draco declared.

Harry smiled and pulled Draco closer into a hug.

"Okay. If it makes you happy, we'll get your father a roller coaster for father's day."

* * *

"Lucius, darling, you've got a surprise today." Narcissa called out to her husband in a singsong voice. 

"I don't want it." Lucius said sulkily while prodding the wizarding pictures in front of him with his wand, each poke producing a slight squelching sound.

"Stop playing with old photos, Lucius, and come see what Draco-precious and Harry-I-saved-the-world-from-ultimate-doom-and-bad-tattoos-Potter got for you for Father's day." Narcissa cajoled.

"No. I still can't believe that our son fell in love with a Potter. How could he? It's stated very clearly in the Malfoy Tome of Etiquette page nine hundred and twenty six in big bold letters 'Malfoys do not fall in love with Potters'! Great Grandfather Malfoy even highlighted those words!" Lucius shot back, prodding a photo of an eleven-year-old Draco and making the Draco in the picture pout slightly.

"Come on… Draco says it's a muggle torture device." Narcissa continued.

The prodding paused for a moment.

"No." Lucius said again, and proceeded to prod at an eight year old Draco who was happily zapping ants with his miniature wand.

"Draco also said that muggles pay to use it, so it's legal and it earns you money." Narcissa tried again.

The prodding paused again.

A loud morose sigh.

"Fine. But I'm not promising I'll like it." Lucius said while getting up gracefully from his position in front of the desk filled with photos of Draco.

"We have to go outside, Draco says we have to enlarge it in a large area. Apparently it's huge." Narcissa said, smiling as she watched her husband pick up his favourite photo of a smirking thirteen-year-old Draco and walk towards her.

* * *

"It's…really big." Narcissa stammered slightly. 

The roller coaster or the big-snake-like-legal-muggle-torture-device as Draco called it, occupied most of the quidditch pitch that sat somewhere behind the Malfoy manor.

"And I can legally torture muggles with this?" Lucius asked no one in particular, voice slightly awed.

"Apparently. Draco says you have to build something called a theme park first, though. And this will be one of the many muggle-torture-devices you can fill it with. According to Draco, the muggles pay to ride these things." Narcissa explained, laughing a little at the overjoyed look on her husband's face.

"Are you sure Harry-I-stole-Draco-from-his-family-and-got-his-father-fired-too-Potter helped Draco with this present?" Lucius asked, shocked.

"Draco says that he even helped to design it and transfigure the different parts from wood." Narcissa replied, slightly smug that her Draco-precious had made such a fine choice in boyfriends.

"Quick! Floo our lawyer! We're going to build us our very own muggle-torture-park." Lucius said in an excited voice, pointing towards the manor as if leading army troops to battle.

"So does this mean you accept that your son is in love with Harry-I-saved-the-world-from-a-snake-infestation-Potter?" Narcissa asked.

"I happen to like snakes. So does Draco. And no." Lucius retorted huffily.

"Lucius, dear, you're being stubborn." Narcissa admonished.

"No I'm not. This just means I won't be sending the Potter boy a death threat this week."

"Oh good. I was hoping to have cherries after dinner." Narcissa said while clapping her hands together in a show of joy.

"I was saving those for next week." Lucius pouted.

"Hush dear and admire your Father's day present while I floo your lawyer." Narcissa gently told her husband before whirling away to the Manor.

"Okay." Lucius murmured, mostly to himself, while hugging his favourite picture of Draco closer to his chest.

This was the best Father's day yet.

Maybe next week he'd send a smaller knife instead of the meat cleaver he was planning to.

"Honey? Do we have any more extra steak knives?"

* * *

So how was it? Feedback is welcomed! I want to know what you guys think of my take on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. My editor doesn't like it at all! Oh and you guys should so go to google and search for this artist called Makani. Her drawings of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy as well as Draco, are so adorable and so good!

p.s. I'm running out of ideas. Should I write one about football in order of the world cup?Suggestions? I shall try to write one about flooding like Mayhem suggested. Cheers!


	29. Snipping

A/N: For some reason, when I reread this after I wrote it, I couldn't stop laughing. HAHA! For James, who always worries if his hair looks good. Thanks to all those who reviewed. I am so happy you guys liked my idea of lucius and Narcissa. Oh and I guess since Prongsmate pointed it out-yup I guess this is pretty OOC so new readers take note. On a side note-I am so happy so many new people have started reading my fic! WOO! Thanks for all your suggestions too! I am going to work on them right now! My editor says this chapter is lame so enjoy if you can!

**

* * *

Snipping **

"Back off Draco." Harry warned, backing warily away from Draco.

"Scared Potter?" Draco drawled, using Harry's last name on purpose.

"Yes." Harry replied, back already inches from the wall.

Oh no.

Draco laughed.

The laugh of a predator who had successfully cornered his prey.

There was no escape.

"Draco…just put that down first okay?" Harry said slowly, cautiously.

Draco smirked.

"What? This?" Draco asked, feigning innocence as he casually twirled the pair of scissors in the air.

"Yes. That. Come on, love, this isn't funny." Harry whispered, as if talking to a wild animal.

Then again maybe he was.

"I think it is. It's just a hair cut, love." Draco chuckled, still staring at Harry in a rather disturbing way.

"Why can't I go to the hair dresser's?" Harry shouted in despair.

Draco cackled.

Harry shuddered.

"Don't you trust me Harry?" Draco asked, drawing out his words unhurriedly.

"I do! But you've never even used a pair of scissors to cut out cardboard shapes before, much less someone's hair! Why now? Why me?" Harry replied frantically.

"I feel like it. Be thankful I'm not going to use my wand. Mother tried it on father once and half his left eyebrow got singed off along with half of his hair." Draco laughed.

"What?" Harry shrilled. "And you still expect me to let you cut my hair, after telling me that?"

"I did say I wouldn't use my wand. Oh come on, love, it's like you forget you're a wizard, we could easily just regrow your hair with a potion if it doesn't work out." Draco chided gently.

"What if the floo rings and you get distracted and snip off a bit of my ear by mistake! What if you sneeze and jab the scissors through my skull and it comes out of my eye! It's not that I don't trust you but there are a number of unforeseen things that could happen." Harry nearly screeched, his mind coming up with more and more ghastly situations by the second.

Draco paused his disconcerting twirling of the scissors and pouted.

Draco pouted and looked at Harry through his eyelashes, lips elegantly curled downwards and eyes glinting dangerously.

Oh no, not the look. Please not the look.

"But Harry…" Draco whined, pausing to sniff before continuing, "I just want to help."

"I mean, you have to dress up and apparate to the hairdresser's and…and…but…" Sniff.

Harry could feel his resolve crumbling.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought it'd be fun."

More sniffling.

Harry suddenly felt like throwing himself at Draco and begging Draco to cut his hair, if only to make Draco smile again.

Draco's free hand came up to rub at his eyes a little.

And Harry completely melted.

"Draco darling, don't cry. I'll do anything as long as it makes you happy. Okay?" Harry murmured gently, reaching out to pull Draco towards him, carefully making sure the pair of scissors didn't jab them both in the ribs.

Draco sniffled some more but allowed himself to be pulled into Harry's arms.

Draco: Two hundred and sixty eight, Harry: None.

Still sniffling slightly, Draco drew back from Harry and smiled a little.

Draco's smile- that's what Harry lived for.

Harry smiled back, a beatific, smitten smile, images of scissors blades protruding out of his forehead completely forgotten.

Guiding Harry to a stool that he had earlier positioned in front of the mirror, Draco settled Harry down onto the seat, running his hands through Harry's hair.

This was going to be great.

Taking off Harry's glasses and placing them on the countertop nearby, Draco began massaging Harry's head.

Harry's eyes closed involuntarily under Draco's ministrations.

Wrinkling his nose with concentration, Draco stopped his caressing of Harry's head and began snipping at Harry's hair.

Harry held his breath.

Snip

Snip

Snip

"Oops"

"Oops? Did you just say 'oops'? What happened? What did you do?" Harry shrilled, eyes flipping open suddenly.

"Small matter, it can easily be corrected, shall just snip more from the other side." Draco said cheerfully, waving the scissors about in dismissal.

"Draco! Stuff like this always happens in sitcoms, I'm so going to end up bald." Harry moaned in frustration.

"Sitcom? Is that like a sort of chair? Don't use your muggle language with me love. You know how it confounds me." Draco said, sounding slightly miffed, not pausing once in his snipping.

"Oops."

"You cut it too short again didn't you." Harry accused Draco, glaring at Draco's blurry image in the mirror.

"It's your fault, you distracted me with all your muggle mumbo-jumbo." Draco retorted in defence. "Close your eyes and relax. I want it to be a surprise."

Harry sighed but complied.

Snip

Snip

Snip

A pause.

Snip

Snip

A nervous cough.

"Erm. Hold on, I'll go get the hair regrowth potion."

Silence.

"Oh my god it looks like my hair got bitten off by a rabid dog!"

Oops?

* * *

A/N: On a side note- a hairdresser once told me that my previous haircut looked like a dog bit off my hair. No joke. I can't say it looked much better after she was done correcting it though. If only I had a hair regrowth potion nearby huh? HAHA! 


	30. Sharing

**_A/N:_** Just out of curiosity-how many of you actually watch the world cup or even like football? Well here's a chapter on football-just to celebrate the world cup. Nothing specifically about the world cup though. Maybe if England gets into the quarter finals. Haha! The words in italics are bits of another poem I wrote. Yes. I write lame mushy poems. Hope you guys like this and the chapter. A few tense problems here and there that neither me nor my editor know how to fix. Oops? Haha! Thanks to all those who reviewed! I read every single review and take everything into consideration! Hope this one is not too bad. Cheers!**_

* * *

_**

**_Sharing_**

_Your smile is better than sunshine._

_The light from your eyes, brighter than moonshine._

Draco loves watching football.

Draco loves watching the twists and turns and the fancy footwork.

Draco loves watching twenty-two grown muggle-men chase after one small, ugly, black and white checked ball.

It's amusing.

Muggles were insipid, but amusing.

Harry doesn't like watching football. Harry's more of a do than watch kind of guy. No, Harry doesn't love watching football at all.

Harry loves playing football.

Harry loves the thrill of the chase.

Harry loves the adrenaline rush he gets when he finally and magically slides the ball from under his opponent's feet.

Draco of course doesn't understand the appeal and thinks that Harry's time is better spent cuddling Draco on the couch.

Draco doesn't see why anyone would want to run about under a blazing sun chasing after a small ugly ball that can't even fly.

At least in Quidditch, the snitch was pretty and the broom did most of the work anyway.

_Your voice is better than a symphony,_

_The laughter from your lips, better than any allegory._

Draco always makes a fuss when Harry tells Draco that he's going to the field nearby for a game with some muggle-born friends from work.

Draco sulks and pouts and holds his arms out to Harry; to entice Harry to stay.

Harry usually just laughs and grabs Draco in a hug and lifts him out the door.

"Come," Harry usually says, "Come and cheer me on, love."

Harry says it with a grin and twinkling eyes.

And his cheeks are usually slightly flushed from lifting Draco and from having Draco so close.

Draco can never resist when Harry asks so nicely.

So Draco goes, like the dutiful boyfriend that he is.

Harry looking incredibly good in shorts and Harry's habit of playing without a shirt on had nothing to do with it.

Really.

_Your grin is better than dancing firelight_

_The sparkle in your eyes, more radiant that the stars of night._

Watching Harry play is not the same as watching miscellaneous muggles play on the muggle-moving-picture-box.

Watching Harry play is not amusing. It's riveting.

When Draco watches Harry play, Draco doesn't notice the fancy footwork; Draco doesn't notice anything at all. All Draco notices is Harry, Harry's sweat-soaked shirt and the smiles Harry throws in Draco's direction every chance he gets.

Harry's actually very proud that Draco goes to watch him play. Draco wasn't like the girls his friends brought along. They just looked on with blank faces, uncomprehending and dull. No. Draco watched Harry, and Harry alone, eyes alight, as if taking in Harry's every move.

It felt good.

And it gave Harry the inspiration to score, if only to reward Draco adoring attention.

The first time Harry scored, his team mates had grabbed him and hugged him in celebration.

They have learnt not to do this.

Because the first time they did it, Draco had stormed onto the field and grabbed Harry back from the sea of bodies.

Mine! No touch!

It was of course rather hard to smile sheepishly and apologise to his team mates with his face pressed into Draco's chest and with Draco's arms around his head but Harry did try.

He really did.

Now, when Harry scores, his team mates just pat him on the back, lightly, if only to avoid Draco's indomitable wrath.

It's not the same but Harry doesn't mind, because Draco's brilliant smile and kiss more than makes up for any male bonding he might be missing out on.

_Your caress is better than the sweetest wine,_

_The way you hold me, tighter than vines entwined._

Sometimes, Draco brings along large plaque cards on which he writes little notes for Harry to read as Harry plays.

"I'm hot. Quick! I want to go home!"

"You're hot."

"Can I lick you?"

"I want ice cream!"

"Kick number 8 for me-the sunlight is bouncing off his shiny bald head and into my eyes!"

It's times like these that Harry usually ends up tripping over grass and falling flat on his face.

It's not how good Draco looks-shirt unbuttoned from the heat and sleeves rolled up to reveal well toned muscles-that distracts Harry, it's just hard to read and run at the same time.

Really.

_Your words are better than a fairy tale._

_The way your mouth moves, more captivating than a comet's tail._

Sometimes, Draco brings Drago along too.

They sit together on the benches, slightly away from the other spectators. Dressed in matching debonair outfits, wearing "Potter-you minx" badges-modified from Draco's badge making factory of old.

Cheering for Harry and Harry alone.

Harry loves sneaking looks at them, even though he's supposed to be watching for the ball.

He loves looking at his little family on the benches.

They were Harry's family, and nobody else's.

It gave Harry a warm fuzzy feeling around his tummy that made him want to forget the game and just run up to where Draco and Drago were to squish them in a big hug.

And to the chagrin of his teammates, Harry actually did it once.

Or thrice.

_Your touch is better than a warm summer's rain._

_The heat from you, warmer than any living flame._

Harry loves playing football.

He loves the excitement of stealing the ball from under his opponent's feet.

He loves the easy camaraderie between team mates.

But he loves how Draco loves watching him play even more.

He loves how Draco cheers him on.

He loves how Draco waits for him by the sidelines with a smile and glass of ice-cold juice.

He loves how Draco can enjoy this with him-even though it's a muggle-sport.

He just loves how he can share almost everything with Draco, even a muggle-sport played on grass, with an ugly ball.

And Draco-well, Draco just loves it when Harry is happy.

_Your love is better than angelic blessing_

_Better than anything and everything._

* * *

So how was that? Maybe I should try one on playing quidditch. Hmm. OH **important question I have been meaning to ask** you guys -who do you think is/should be taller? Draco or Harry? Or same height? HMMMMM. Comments? Thanks for reading! Hope u liked it! 


	31. Flooding

A/N: Thanks to Mayhem whose anecdote about toilet flooding inspired this. It's short but well I can so picture this happening-enjoy if you can! Oh and about the who's taller thing-I am trying to write a chapter on Dancing (as somebody-I am so sorry I can't remember who-please tell me if you know who you are-suggested) so I kind of wanted to figure out the heights and stuff. Thanks for all the reviews and suggestions-I actually made a list of stuff said. Yay!

**Flooding**

"Harry! Save us!" Draco's shrill cry rang out from upstairs.

Harry bolted from the couch and practically flew up the stairs.

Gripping his wand tightly, poised to aim, he threw open the bathroom door.

And water sloshed out onto his feet and the hallway carpet.

What the…

"Draco! What did you do?" Harry accused Draco who was currently standing on a short stool, carrying Drago high above his head.

The whole bathroom was flooded.

"Save me Harry!" Draco whined.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Draco, the water is already draining out into the hallway, it wouldn't even reach up to your ankles." Harry laughed.

"But I'm wearing my favourite designer pyjamas! The water's soapy!" Draco muttered petulantly, still standing on the stool.

Harry sighed.

"Pyjamas can be washed, love. Designer or not." Harry explained patiently, trying to ignore the fact that water was washing out from the bathroom and soaking his already rather cold feet.

Drago meowed angrily, as if to remind them that he wasn't happy with his current position high up in the air in the middle of a flooded bathroom either.

Draco just made little piteous noises of discontent while stepping about on his tiny stool like a restless six-year-old.

Right. Harry Potter to the rescue then.

"The things I do for you Draco…" Harry complained, laughing, before wading against the really shallow onslaught of soapy water to arrive by Draco's last refuge; the short red stool.

Despite Harry being the saviour of the world and Draco being one of the top students of their graduating class, neither thought enough to switch off the tap. Right.

Placing one hand behind Draco's knees, and one hand behind Draco's back, Harry scooped Draco up from the red stool and began his five-step journey back to the hallway.

Mission accomplished.

Draco squealed in delight

Drago purred.

Being rescued felt good.

Not too far away, two house elves were mopping furiously.

The water from the flooded bathroom had dripped through the flooring and was now making small puddles on the floor downstairs.

"Why can't we just go up there and turn off the blasted tap."

"Can you not hear the masters' gleeful laughter? We is staying down here. So they can be having their fun."

"Oh. What's so fun about flooding the toilet again?"

"I don'ts know."

"…Right..."

"Just mop the damn floor."

Right.

A/N: I sort of picture the first house elf to be rather young, inexperienced and rebellious while the other one is older and more…house-elfy? Haha. It's not great but well. I like it. I actually laughed after reading it back. WOO!


	32. Dancing

**A/N:** After all the suggestions the tally came to this- 17 thought Harry should be taller. 4 thought Draco should be taller and 4 thought they should be the same height. HMMM...I for one think the height difference shouldn't be too great else it'd look really weird.Though I must say that Harry is a smidgen taller than Draco. Like 1 cm. HAHA! I think the height difference will make a good plot. Thanks to all those who answere and reviewed! YAY! Hope you guys like this one!**

* * *

****Dancing**

When Harry and Draco attend dances-Harry doesn't like to dance.

Draco complains that dances are called so because they are specifically for dancing.

Harry doesn't like to dance because he can't. He doesn't know how.

Draco figures all Harry's elegance and grace got converted into evil-defeating prowess. Hence Harry's perpetual clumsiness and inability to dance.

Draco always tries to get Harry to dance. 'Tries' being the operative word. Usually the most Draco can get Harry to do is stand up and hold Draco's hands as Draco gyrates in front of Harry and around Harry.

After the fifth dance they attend, Draco is fed up of dancing by the tables as Harry sits down, holds his hand and watches him.

So Draco decides to teach Harry how to dance.

Draco starts by giving Harry a kiss-for encouragement and for luck.

Then the lesson begins.

Nothing fancy, just holding each other and swaying and stepping in time to the music.

Harry is apprehensive, he doesn't want to step on Draco's feet and hurt him.

Placing his hands around Harry's neck and adjusting Harry's hands around his waist, Draco begins their first lesson in slow dancing.

One and two and-and Harry steps on Draco's left foot.

Draco grimaces slightly but masks it with a smile, resisting the urge to bend down and massage his little toe. Or to step on Harry too.

The next time, they get to the third count before Harry steps on Draco's right toe.

Harry apologises over and over again and tries to bend down to make it better. But Draco stops him, pulling Harry closer and telling Harry to just hold him and move with the music.

Draco doesn't count anymore.

Their steady breathing with the soft ballroom music is all the rhythm they need.

This time they manage one whole minute before Harry's left knee hits Draco's right.

Draco sighs loudly.

Then, inspiration hits.

Smirking at Harry, Draco gently steps up onto Harry's feet.

Draco's light, and the pressure of Draco's feet on Harry's feet is comforting. Draco's chest is flush with Harry's now, Draco's neck pressed up against Harry's, their ears touching.

So close.

"Now dance." Draco breathes.

Slowly, hesitantly, Harry begins to shuffle his feet, in time to their beating hearts and the sweet, soulful music playing in their bedroom.

Harry laughs suddenly, elated at their success.

Draco just smiles serenely and rubs his head against Harry's in acknowledgement.

Humming to the music and closing their eyes in contentment, they continue to dance till long after the music ends.

The sixth dance they attend, Harry invites Draco to dance, eyes twinkling with excitement. Draco smiles at him and stands gracefully to accept Harry's hand.

They walk together to the dance floor, far away from the tables.

Nobody notices that Draco has left his shoes under his chair.

Stepping onto Harry's black leather shoes, Draco lets Harry pull him close. Their bodies fit easily. The music starts anew and Draco and Harry begin to dance.

For once, the saviour of the wizarding world is dancing.

And everyone can't help but watch him and the love of his life sway, not to the music, but to the rhythm of their very own heartbeats.

Draco's pale blonde head and Harry's dark black one, pressed close.

The whole room watches and smiles.

As the wizarding world's sweetest love story unfolds before their very eyes.

* * *

A/N: Won't be able to update for quite awhile. Moving to Singapore. oO Wish me luck. Heh. Till I get settled-hope you don't forget this fic!

* * *


	33. Skulking

A/N: Inspired by how cool I found the hoods in that scene in the Prisoner of Azkaban when Draco was mocking Harry about his dementor-phobia. HAHA! Anyway-I have a feeling it's going to be rather long till I manage to get any internet connection so I shall leave you guys one more fic! YAY! Thanks for all the reviews and wishes of luck!

**

* * *

Skulking **

Draco was gliding about the side of the living room in his old black school cloak. His hood was up and he looked just like he did all those years ago. It made Harry want to laugh.

"Draco, love, what are you doing?" Harry called out from his position on the couch, too comfortable to move.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Draco demanded, sounding slightly put off by Harry's question.

"Don't tell me, Slytherin reunion next week?" Harry tried, giggling slightly at Draco who was still pacing by the carpet, in front of a very curious Drago.

"No. And even if there was one I wouldn't need to practise looking evil. I'm the epitome of evil, right?" Draco asked, voice raising a pitch towards the end.

Harry smiled reassuringly, "You're every inch the evil little Slytherin that you were in Hogwarts. Just this morning, you stole all the blankets and kicked me off the bed. Remember?"

Draco smirked at the memory. Yes. Draco was evil. And darn proud of it too.

"Well, if you must know, I'm teaching our precious Drago here how to skulk." Draco announced to Harry.

"Skulk? Huh?" Harry asked, confused.

"To skulk is to move stealthily. Basic Slytherin trait, love," Draco drawled, "Or did the fall from the bed wipe out what little IQ you had possessed?"

"To skulk is also to lurk about and evade work or obligation." Harry drawled right back.

Draco paused for a moment, tilting his head, and biting his lower lip slightly, thinking.

"That's an integral part of Slytherin too."

After much sniggering, Harry finally calmed down enough to realise that Draco was still "skulking" and trying to get Drago to "skulk" along with him too.

"Draco, love, why are you teaching Drago to skulk anyway? He's not going to Hogwarts. Besides, if he was, he'd be in Gryffindor." Harry said smugly.

Draco paused mid-skulk.

Pivoting on his right foot, Draco whirled around to face Harry, face settled into a scowl.

"Drago is a Slytherin. He's animal royalty and he's devious and cunning. He belongs in Slytherin." Draco stated, voice a deadly calm.

But Harry wasn't backing down, " He's a kitten. The Gryffindor symbol is after all a lion. It's obvious he'd be in Gryffindor."

Advancing towards Harry, who was still lazing on the couch, Draco did in fact look rather intimidating. His black, pointed hood cloak, accentuating his pale and angular Malfoy countenance.

"Slytherin." Draco countered.

"Gryffindor." Harry shot back, calm in the face of the brewing Draco-esque storm.

"Slytherin!" Draco half shrilled, stamping his foot in emphasis.

"Gryffindor. Seriously, love, think about it." Harry chuckled standing to push back Draco's hood and caress his love's chin.

"Slytherin!" Draco said again, whining now, mild anger washed away by Harry's gesture.

Harry's answer was cut off by a meow from Drago as the kitten padded from its position by the wall to sit between Harry and Draco.

"Aw, look Draco, our Drago is trying to tell us not to fight." Harry gushed happily.

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at Drago who was currently peering up at them and purring.

"You're a Slytherin aren't you, precious? Not a silly little Gryffindor." Draco tried wheedling Drago to his side.

"I may be silly but I'm definitely not little." Harry intoned, puffing out his chest in a show of manliness.

But before could Draco could expound on how little he thought Harry's brain was, Drago interrupted again.

Harry and Draco both looked down only to find Drago on his back, paws up in the air, purring and begging for his belly to be rubbed.

"I think our precious Drago is more of a Hufflepuff than anything." Harry chuckled.

Draco's cry of outrage and horror was heard for miles.

"A Hufflepuff? No! Yellow and black! Merlin! He'd look like a bee! A bumbling simpering bee! Kill me now! Why! Why? No!" Draco moaned as he sobbed into Harry's shoulder.

"There there, Draco, the badger is pretty cute." Harry cajoled.

The word badger, however, set Draco off into another round of weepy complaining. Apparently, the badger was an ugly oversized mole rat. Right.

Scratching Drago's tummy with one hand and comforting Draco with his other, Harry couldn't help but smile, amused.

But Harry's amusement didn't last long.

"I refuse to believe my precious Drago will be a Hufflepuff." Draco declared. "Come Harry. We're going to go and 'borrow' the sorting hat from Hogwarts to sort this whole mess out."

"Draco…" Harry started.

"We'll put it back." Draco said quickly.

"But…"

Ignoring Harry's attempt at protests, Draco just carried on, "Come Drago, it is time to put our skulking skills to good use!"

Skulk skulk skulk.

Sadly, Drago's skulking skills weren't that up to scratch after all and Harry, Draco and Drago were all caught before they even made it into Headmaster's office.

Dang.

So Draco and Drago went home to practise skulking some more.

* * *

A/N: If you guys are free(from not reading this? HEH) Check out Yuuri and Wolfram in Kyou Kara Maou (unless you already know about it). I just started watching it and for some reason Wolfram(blonde) REALLY REALLY reminds me of Draco. HAHA! What do you guys think? LOL! Oh and to Heavenleighcasteelthe2nd I want to see your pic! But the link is wonky! How? sniffs Anyway-Thanks for reading! I'll be back. You can count on that. -skulks off- 


	34. Breathing

A/N: Hello! I'm back! Anyone missed me? Anyway-I'm like leeching someone's wireless internet to post this. This is from Ron's point of view. The Ron hating Draco thing is always a big issue when you think about H/D. Well-this is my take on how they would interact when left alone. Hope you guys like it. Thanks for all the reviews and wishes of luck!

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Breathing**

"You're breathing my air, Weasel." Draco accused Ron who was at that point in time praying fervently for either Harry or Hermione to return.

"I'm at least four feet away from you, you wretched ferret." Ron retorted, rather frustrated with the current situation.

It was ridiculous that both Harry and Hermione had to use the toilet at the same time. If this was some sort of devious plot to help Draco and him get along, it wasn't working.

"Yes, well, you're still breathing my air." Draco drawled, absently flicking dust off his dark blue shirt.

"What on earth are you on about, are you claustrophobic or something?" Ron demanded, angrily.

"No. I just don't want you breathing my air." Draco replied calmly.

"Harry stands so close to you, he's practically on top of you. Why don't you complain about him breathing your air?" Ron asked, voice rising in pitch, in tandem with his rising frustration.

"Harry is different. What's mine is his. He can breathe all of my air if he wants, even the air from my very lungs if he fancies." Draco answered coolly.

"I did not just here you allude to you and my best friend sucking face." Ron shuddered involuntarily.

"Don't be crude Weasel. And you're still breathing my air." Draco reiterated.

"You don't own the air, Malfoy." Ron shot back, crossing his arms defensively.

"Oh yes I do. There's some governmental draft from 1670 stating that all Malfoy descendents own the air within a ten feet radius of their person. At any given time." Draco announced proudly, extending his arms extravagantly to emphasise his point.

"You've got to be kidding me." Ron said, choking slightly in disbelief.

"No. It's true. Don't worry; I won't have you charged for stealing my air or anything. You are after all the-love-of-my-life's best friend. " Draco quipped.

Ron took in a deep breath to calm himself. He didn't want his best friend to come back only to find Ron strangling said best friends' extremely infuriating boyfriend.

Right. Deep breath.

"Stop breathing so much, Weasely, you're wasting my air." Draco told Ron casually, stressing the word 'my' deliberately, smirking as he did so.

But before Ron could scream his frustration and launch himself onto Draco and strangle said ferret to death, Harry rounded the corner and appeared.

"Missed me?" Harry asked, smirking slightly.

The very same smirk that had graced Draco's lips moments ago.

Ron choked out a sob before burying his face in his hands, feeling slight hysteria approaching.

Apparently the ferret was infectious.

Hopefully it was a sexually transmitted disease and non-airborne.

"Yes. Definitely. Next time, I'm coming with you. We could pee together. The tinkling of urine, the yellow-white walls and the weird toilet-y smell. It'd be romantic." Draco drawled, brilliant smile breaking out as Harry came to stand beside him.

Harry's laughter rang out at that answer and Ron looked up suddenly, realising something.

Ron realised that he hadn't heard Harry laugh so freely, so happily and so much in so long.

The feeling of hysteria was fading, being replaced by one of enlightened acceptance.

Ron couldn't help but smile a little.

Whatever kind of disease the ferret had, it was good for his best friend.

And that was good enough for Ron.

Taking a deep breath, Ron released it loudly; a grin breaking out as he did so.

Maybe the ferret wasn't that bad after all.

"Harry. Your best friend keeps breathing my air. Make him stop."

Stupid Ferret.

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On a side note: I sincerely wish I also owned the air around me. Because I am sadly slightly claustrophobic. Haha! U may wish to ignore this author and her nonsense.HAHA! Oh and if you have anymore suggestions for stories now would be a very good time to share them with me. HINT! Heh. 


	35. Craving

A/N: Just a really short chapter-like the first few I wrote. I don't think it's as good though. Heh. I'm suffering from some major writers block! The ending stanza is just a part of another mushy poem I wrote. Feedback and suggestions are craved for. HAHA!Thanks for reading!**

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**Craving**

_Craving: An all-consuming desire._

Draco likes a lot of attention. A lot.

But it is Harry's attention that he craves.

Harry's and Harry's alone.

Draco likes the feel of Harry's eyes on his skin. A gentle caress in itself.

He likes the soft smile Harry gets when Harry looks at him. A smitten look of indulgence.

He likes the way Harry speaks to him, head tilted towards Draco, voice lowered, as if the world only included Draco and Harry-no one else.

Draco likes the way Harry's eyes light up when Draco enters the room. The way Harry's attention settles on Draco and Draco alone. As if Draco was the centre of Harry's entire universe.

Harry in turn likes the way Draco draws his attention.

Harry likes the way Draco studies him, Draco's eyes gazing into Harry's behind long elegant lashes. As if waiting, patiently, for Harry to compliment Draco on his stunning and devilish looks.

He likes the way Draco tugs on his sleeves so that Harry's eyes will be fixed on Draco, and not the stage.

He likes the way Draco whispers enticingly into his ear, so that he has to move close to listen.

Harry likes the way Draco saunters into the room with eyes that search only for Harry. The way Draco barely notices anyone else. As if Harry was the brightest star in the night sky. And everyone else was just random riff-raff.

In a way, even though Harry doesn't really like attention, he craves Draco's attention too.

Draco's and Draco's alone.

_I dreamt of us_

_Once upon a time_

_The moon was round, the stars were bright_

_The dream, was divine._

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Thanks for all the reviews! They're really really encouraging! The suggestions rock too but it's slightly hard to come up with something in this heat! I think my brain is melting. 


	36. Hiding

A/N: I frankly don't think this one is very good. But then my brain is really melting. I hope you will forgive. Thanks for all the reviews and stuff! _ArtysSexKitten_-My very straight bf is my inspiration. He is v horrified. HA! _mou_ -Long? I can't even come up with a short one. Maybe if someone bought me a huge airconditioning unit... _Mayhem-_I hope my brainstops melting first. HAHA! Ga nat nat-I love H/D specifically because I think they're perfect for each other-character wise! Can't help that they're both guys I guess. Ok, enough blabber-enjoy if you can!

**Hiding**

"Draco? What are you doing?" Harry asked, giggling slightly at the sight of Draco with a pillowcase on his head, attempting to navigate his way from the bedroom to the stairs.

"None of your business." Draco retorted sounding rather annoyed.

"Come on, love. Don't hide your pretty little face." Harry cooed, walking towards Draco slowly.

"I'll have you know that I'm not pretty. I'm chiselled and pulchritudinous." Draco announced imperiously.

"Pul-what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Ah. Once again, I am proven to be the smarter one. A pulchritudinous person is a person who has great physical beauty." Draco explained, voice slightly muffled by the pillowcase.

"Real ugly-sounding word isn't it. In fact it sounds like a place in Mongolia." Harry sniggered.

"Uncultured Gryffindor." Draco sniffed disdainfully.

"Ah. But you love me all the same right?" Harry replied, snaking his arms around Draco's waist and pressing his face into the pillowcase that covered Draco's face.

Draco's answer was a contented sigh, as he leaned into Harry's embrace.

"You still haven't told me why you're wearing a pillowcase." Harry stated casually.

Draco stiffened in Harry's arms.

"Did you cut yourself shaving again?" Harry laughed, amused.

"No!" Draco wailed. "I'm marred for life."

Harry tried to pull Draco's pillowcase off but Draco held it tight.

"Come on, love, I'll love you even if you grew a neon pink moustache and had green nose hair growing out of your nose." Harry persuaded gently, all the while tugging at Draco's pillowcase.

"That's disgusting," Draco answered, but allowed Harry to pull the pillowcase off his head.

Harry blinked.

"I don't see anything wrong with your face at all!" Harry exclaimed, peering close at Draco's seemingly perfect face.

"A white head! I have a white head! It's huge! It's on my nose! Are you blind? It will grow. Maybe become black! Then I will get more and more until my nose will look like a strawberry!" Draco raved frantically, gesturing wildly to his own nose.

Harry blinked again.

"Draco, love, it's just one tiny white head that I can't even see." Harry ventured, raising his hand to caress Draco's chin.

Draco began sniffling.

"But you're half blind! I'm going to have a strawberry nose!" Draco moaned piteously.

Harry laughed, and kissed Draco on the nose.

"I happen to like strawberries a lot."

Oh.

Yay?

Happily, Draco's tiny white head disappeared the next day. Thus removing the need for long discussions about how good a strawberry would look as a nose.

So Draco remained as pulchritudinous as ever.

And Harry- bought strawberries for supper.

A/N: How was that? Good? Okay? Feedback is welcome! (even if u tell me this sucked-because i frankly didnt think it was that great. Heh.)


	37. Receiving

A/N: Oook. I re-read my last chapter and I think I want to dunk my head in water. It was so...so...so...forced out. OOPS! Well this just hit me awhile ago and I like it. Honestly hope I'm not the only one. Please tell me what you think. Tell the truth! But seriously. If this sucks too...I'm going to not write till I get proper inspiration...Anyway- Thanks for all the reviews! Enjoy if you can!

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**Receiving**

Draco's behind began vibrating not long ago.

Draco of course did not leap about 2 feet into the air squealing about mice.

No. Draco took it all very calmly.

Really.

Stupid Harry and his stupid muggle toys.

It didn't help that Draco didn't remember how to use the silly portable version of the just as silly muggle-ringing-box-thing.

It didn't help at all.

After all, there were so many buttons, and the buttons were all so small. Even with Draco's elegant and svelte fingers, he still managed to jab two buttons at the same time.

Stupid muggle-vibrating-thing.

Right.

Harry claimed it was a means of contact. Like floo-calls but without the face.

Then what in Merlin's name were all the buttons and vibrations for!

Of course Harry had patiently explained to Draco how to use said muggle-object.

But, of course, Draco had spent the time watching Harry's perfect, and wonderful lips,instead of watching Harry's demonstration.

Oops?

Never mind. Draco could do this. He was after all a Malfoy. And Malfoys were perfect in everything.

Malfoys could do anything. Even use weird-muggle-vibrators.

So Draco took a deep breath and jabbed a button.

But the muggle-thing continued to vibrate.

Ugh!

But before Draco could pick the thing up and hurl it at the wall, it stopped.

Draco heaved a sigh of relief.

Then the little-muggle-vibrator-cum-ringing-idiotic-piece-of-crap started vibrating and ringing again.

An image of Harry's sweet, sculpted lips mouthing the words "green button" suddenly flashed to mind.

So Draco pressed the green button.

And the ringing stopped.

Draco Malfoy was an all-conquering genius.

Faint sounds of "hello" began emanating from the muggle-piece-of-rubbish.

Faint sounds that sounded a lot like Harry.

Merlin!

Someone had shrunk and trapped Harry in the mini-muggle-ringing-box-thing!

Draco, bent low towards the now newly christened, evil-muggle-trap and shouted, "Don't worry, love, I'll save you!"

With that, Draco straightened, raised his wand and pointed imperiously at the evil-muggle-trap on the table.

"Finite Incantum"

Nothing happened.

So Draco tried again. After all, a Malfoy never gives up.

Faint sounds of Harry saying, "Draco? Draco what on earth are you doing? Pick up the phone and speak into it! Hello? Draco? Draco!" were ignored.

Time to be destroyed, evil-muggle-trap.

But before Draco could utter the magic words, Harry appeared in front of Draco's desk with a crack.

"Harry! Are you all right? Did those silly Death Eaters stick you in the evil-muggle-trap?" Draco asked frantically before launching himself into Harry's arms.

Harry blinked.

"Draco. Were you even listening when I explained to you how to use your handphone?" Harry demanded.

"Hand what? The evil-muggle-trap, you mean? I was listening…" Draco answered, trying to look innocent.

"Then why didn't you answer your phone? I was trying to tell you that I'm done for the day and that we should go out for dinner together." Harry asked sounding slightly put off.

"Then why didn't you just floo me!" Draco said while fussing with Harry's tie.

"I paid good money for two satellite phones for a good reason, Draco. This way, I can always contact you, easily. Without needing to look for a fireplace." Harry told Draco, in hopes that this time, Draco would listen.

Draco considered Harry's earnest expression and decided that this time he would try his best to learn.

For Harry's sake.

So this time, when Harry explained, very slowly and carefully, how to use the muggle-ringing-device, Draco didn't look at Harry's perfect mouth.

No.

Draco spent most of the time looking at Harry's flawless and very sensuous fingers instead.

Oops?


	38. Nicknaming

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I hope you guys like this one! Can you guys give me a few nicknames you think Harry and Draco should have? I would like to use some in following fics. YAY! Because I really had trouble just coming up with the below. It's not that great-this one but well, enjoy if you can! Thanks for reading!

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**Nicknaming**

You would think that Harry would be more of the strong-silent-hero-boy-type.

You would think that Draco would be more of the one to come up with horrifyingly embarrassing nicknames and terrifyingly mushy romantic blabber.

You would think wrong.

Harry was the one who came up with the nicknames, and the mushy blabber.

Draco was just the one who sniggered, ran away screaming, blushed or kissed Harry tenderly in reciprocation.

Harry liked coming up with nicknames. He found it amusing.

Draco thinks it's retribution for the number of horrible nicknames Draco used to come up for Harry.

But Draco much rather be called The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy than Snugglebunny.

Seriously.

The first time Harry had called Draco by a sickeningly mushy nickname Draco had laughed it off.

After all, the word "poopsikins" coming from Harry's mouth was really rather amusing.

The second time Harry had called Draco anything other than Draco's given name was in front of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

It was mortifying.

Draco had been on the floo with his parents when Harry's voice had echoed from up the stairs.

"We're out of toilet paper snookums!"

Lucius had promptly fainted.

And Narcissa, after recovering from her shock had begun sniggering.

It was definitely not one of Draco's favourite moments.

But it didn't stop there. Harry kept coming up with more and more scarily sweet nicknames.

"Baby-booboo, you have such perfect ears!"

"Sweetie-honey-pumpkin come and sit by me."

After awhile, Draco realised that Harry usually got a specific look on his face just before spouting these nicknames.

It was the look of someone high.

Someone high on love.

In a way it was extremely flattering.

But that still didn't stop Draco from wishing that the floor would swallow both Harry and him up when Harry called Draco "squishy-poo" in front of Pansy.

Neither did it stop Draco from calling Harry "buns-of-steel" in front of the Minister of Magic.

After all, Draco couldn't let Harry have all the fun now, could he?

No he couldn't.

Because a babilicious-honey-buns would never be complete without his sweetie-wickie-poo.


	39. Melting

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Hope my last chapter didnt scare too many of you. This is inspired by my own melting brain and _delyn's _really perfect suggestion. But I don't think I did this very well written. It's not like what I usually write so if you think I should try more of this kind or I should just never try this again-let me know ok?Enjoy if you can!

P.s. Ok.I accidentally made Draco a girl. SORRY! Long story-mainly because my new editor is anti-slash. Thanks _Kakashi-FotJNB_ for pointing it out. Fixed now!

**Melting **

The heat was intense.

The curtains were closed, but the sun somehow managed to barge it's way into the room to make orange patterns on the floor.

Draco was half lying back on his chest, half against the sofa arm. His legs were draped across Harry's. And Harry's left hand rested on Draco's stomach.

It was so hot.

The heat made Harry chatty. As if Harry needed to express all his thoughts before the heat melted his brain, and took all his thoughts with it.

The heat made Draco drowsy. As if Draco had lost all bodily functions hours ago-melted away by the intoxicating heat.

Harry loved how Draco looked, sweetly resting on him. Draco, of course, complained how Harry radiated heat. Apparently, Harry's hand was too warm to be allowed near Draco. But Harry didn't care. Harry left his hand on Draco's stomach and just smirked into Draco's perfect-blonde hair.

Draco's back was damp. He felt sticky. Draco felt like he was stuck to Harry. Or maybe it was Harry that was stuck to Draco. Draco would move, except he didn't think he could bear to tear himself away from Harry's steady heartbeat that echoed into him from behind.

It was too hot to do anything.

Too hot to even look up the simple cooling charm that they had both unfortunately forgotten.

Too hot to even call the house elves and demand that they do something.

Too hot to do anything but stay as they were.

But just as Draco was about to fall asleep, Harry bent down, to kiss Draco's neck-simply because he could.

So Harry did.

The feel of Harry's warm breath on Draco's already very sticky neck jolted Draco from his half-dazed state. Draco tried to protest, but his limbs and mind failed him. All Draco could do was squirm and whine unintelligibly.

Harry laughed, warm breath chasing down Draco's neck and chin. Maybe it really was too hot. But the little noises of discontent that Draco made were just too irresistible.

So Harry began kissing Draco's perfect neck.

But he stopped suddenly, when Draco's elbow, which finally consented to move, jabbed him in the ribs. After all, a fistfight now, would kill them both.

Harry would comment on how clammy Draco's neck was. But Harry didn't think that Draco would be as amused as he was. So Harry left it at that, and sang softly to Draco as Draco slowly slid back into his hazy state.

It was really too hot to do anything.

And so they sat. Like that.

All over each other.

On one of the hottest days in wizarding history.

Just lazing. Together.

And melting.

Melting into each other.


	40. Peeing

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. This is inspired by a re-run of Friends. Could you guys please suggest a name for Ron and Hermione's kid? I need it for my next chapter. If not I shall just use Kaylyn (I love that name) Anyway-hope you guys like this one!

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Peeing**

"He'd be in Slytherin. Come on. Look at him. He's the epitome of grace and cunning." Draco argued, gesturing grandly towards Drago who was currently prowling about the coffee table.

"He's playing with a squeaky toy." Harry deadpanned.

"He's stalking his prey." Draco replied, offended.

"Which is a squeaky toy." Harry restated, amused.

Draco growled in frustration.

"I know how we can solve this," Draco said, pausing for effect, "come Drago, let's go outside."

"Outside? What can we possibly do outside to determine which house Drago belongs in?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Watch and learn, love. Watch and learn." Draco smiled mysteriously before whirling away towards the garden.

Drago obediently picked up his small squeaky toy in his mouth and followed suit.

Harry, laughed, stood up shaking his head and began to trace Draco's footsteps out to the garden as well.

"Now," Draco announced, "we wait for wind."

"Wind? What does wind have to do with this?" Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

"I have a theory," Draco explained, pausing only to poke Harry in the shoulder when Harry rolled his eyes, "that will help differentiate the different Hogwarts houses."

Taking Harry's silence as indication to continue, Draco began expounding his newest theory.

"The characteristics of the people accepted in to the different houses make them react differently to the same situation. For example, when outdoors, with a full bladder, the boys of the different houses will do different things." Draco said, while watching Drago play in the grass.

"And this needs wind because?" Harry questioned.

"Well. Hufflepuffs wouldn't pee outdoors at all; they would probably wait till their bladders explode. Gryffindors, on the other hand would, pee into the wind. Bravery and what not." Draco continued, sniggering slightly at Harry's pained expression.

"Into the wind? I wouldn't pee into the wind! That's not brave. That's idiotic!" Harry exclaimed, rather horrified with Draco's characterisation of his former house.

A glare from Draco silenced Harry's brewing rant.

"Don't interrupt me, love, I'm expounding." Draco admonished.

Right.

"Anyway, as I was saying. Gryffindors pee into the wind. Ravenclaws on the other hand calculate the perfect wind speed and angle for them to pee such that the pee will land as far away from them as possible." Draco went on, heedless of Harry's mutterings about crazy Slytherins and they're crazy biased theories.

"Then what would a Slytherin do?" Harry demanded, hands on hips, sulking at Draco.

Draco smirked.

"A Slytherin, unlike all the others, will calculate the perfect wind speed and angle to pee such that his pee will land on the front of the nearest victim's pants." Draco declared gleefully.

Harry's sulk faltered just a little.

"Where do you come up with such things?" Harry laughed.

"It's a gift." Draco smirked.

"But how do you even know if Drago has a full bladder now?" Harry asked, choking slightly on his words, snickering.

Draco blinked.

Oh.

"Come Drago, precious. Let's go inside to drink lots of water and pray for wind." Draco called out to the frolicking kitten.

Harry laughed some more.

But Harry stopped laughing when Draco suddenly peed and the pee somehow managed to hit a laughing Harry square in the chest.

Really.

Slytherins were brilliant.

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Thanks again _Kakashi-FotJNB_ for telling me about my mistake in the last chapter. No worries my old editor will be back from camp soon! 


	41. Babysitting

A/N: This chapter is inspired by _Crystal Malfoy's_ review/suggestion and my own rather noisy niece. Decided to use the original name I wanted. Just a question-are my chapters getting really horrible? Because I have less reviews like less people want to read! I'm thinking of abandoning this. I'll be very busy soon too anyway and it takes quite alot of effort to write each chapter. Ah well. Anyway. Thanks for all the reviews! Hope you guys like this one.

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Babysitting **

"I don't understand what you're saying!" Draco shrilled, frantically waving his arms about in the air.

But Draco got only incoherent noises in reply.

"Harry!" Draco shouted in the general direction of the bathroom, "I demand that you get your butt back down here and save me from this blubbering thing!"

A slight pause before Harry's answer came drifting down from upstairs, "For the last time Draco, stop calling the baby a thing!"

"Then stop calling it '_the_ baby'!" Draco retorted, shaking his fist in Harry's general direction.

A loud gurgle from the baby in the nearby cot seemed to highlight the baby's agreement.

"Fine! Stop calling _Kaylyn_ 'it' or 'thing'. She's as much a person as you are!" Harry replied, sounding a tad bit annoyed, "Now for heaven's sake let me finish my bath. I still have shampoo in my hair!"

Draco sulked at the ceiling.

Kaylyn tapped the side of her cot with her rather noisy rattle, as if to alert Draco to her growing boredom.

Draco whirled around and eyed the brown-haired infant suspiciously.

"Let's establish some ground rules first," Draco told Kaylyn, hands on his hips, "there will be no pulling of Uncle Draco's beautiful hair. There will be no drooling on Uncle Draco's nice shirt. And most importantly there will be no excreting onto Uncle Draco. At all. Understand?"

The baby blinked vacantly up at Draco.

Draco could almost see the Weasel's genes crowding out Granger's genes.

But before Draco could make a disparaging remark about the baby's apparent inability to think beyond her next meal, Kaylyn broke out into a beatific grin.

Draco melted like butter on a hot pavement on a sunny day

"Don't think I don't know that you're just plotting to pee on me behind that sweet smile of yours." Draco warned Kaylyn, shaking his finger at her.

Kaylyn burbled innocently.

"Harry! Are you done yet?" Draco called out, "The baby is bullying me!"

But Draco's cry for assistance was ignored.

Kaylyn raised her hands towards Draco, waving them about insistently.

The devious little critter.

Draco regarded her sceptically, but reached down to pick her up.

Holding Kaylyn an arms length away, his hands under her armpits, Draco tried his best not to resist the urge to hold her to his chest. After all, that was why Harry was in the bath in the first place. The scheming little baby had drooled all over Harry's hair, neck and back. Draco just knew that it was a ploy to trap him. He just knew it.

Kaylyn waved her rattle about insistently, whacking Draco many times in the process.

"Weasel child," Draco said pausing to glare at Kaylyn who was still beating at his right arm with her dratted rattle, "please don't hit Uncle Draco's delicate hands. Uncle Draco doesn't look good with lots of rattle-shaped bruises."

Kaylyn paused her beating to look wonderingly into Draco's eyes.

Aw.

But she resumed it almost immediately, with renewed gusto after that.

Right. Weasel genes.

Walking gingerly over to the couch, Draco put Kaylyn down. Praying that she wouldn't drool on his rather nice leather upholstery.

"Now. Give Uncle Draco your Draco-torture-toy." Draco ordered, gently trying to ease the rattle out of Kaylyn's surprisingly strong grasp.

"MINE!" Kaylyn blurted out, pulling the rattle to her chest.

"No, mine!" Draco said while trying to pry Kaylyn's fingers off the rattle handle.

"MINE!" Kaylyn shouted again, bonking Draco on the head for effect.

Right. New plan of action.

When Harry was finally done with his bath, he realised that he hadn't heard any calls for help from Draco in quite awhile. Imagining the worse, he rushed down the stairs only to find Draco bouncing Kaylyn on his knee.

He was about to compliment Draco when he noticed what Kaylyn was waving about.

It wasn't a rattle.

"DRACO! How could you give Kaylyn your 700 pound satellite phone to use as a rattle?" Harry screeched rushing forward to Draco and the baby.

" At least she can't really use this to hit me. It's not long enough. I think I'm bruising already." Draco defended himself.

Kaylyn giggled happily, before bringing the phone to her mouth to chew on.

"Come Kaylyn," Harry cajoled, "give Uncle Harry the unbelievably-expensive phone…"

A resounding "MINE!" was the only reply Harry received.

And Draco couldn't help but laugh when Kaylyn bonked Harry on the head with the apparently-very-expensive-muggle-ringing-vibrator-thing.

"MINE!"

Bonk.

Maybe the weasel child wasn't that bad after all.


	42. Fighting

A/N: Sorry for long hiatus. Studies are killing me-and my inspiration. I hope you guys like this one!

**Fighting**

They don't fight much.

But when they do-even the kitten knows how to get out of the way.

Their fights are nothing like their arguments.

Their fights are fiery and explosive exchanges, all trace of lighthearted teasing vanished, like wisps of smoke.

They fight the same way they love each other.

Passionate and full of fire.

But even in they're fury they never ignore each other.

Because even in their ire they can't bear to ignore each other.

They fight because they're insecure.

Harry thinks Draco is the best thing in his life. But he also keeps thinking that Draco will leave some day, because most good things in Harry's life disappear.

Harry doesn't think he could survive even two minutes without Draco.

Draco thinks Harry's the world. Draco's whole world. But Draco worries that Harry may decide otherwise. Draco worries that fate may decide otherwise. Draco worries that Harry may be taken from him.

Draco knows that he can't live without Harry. Without Harry's heart beating nearby.

They rarely fight for long.

Sometimes they make each other so angry it seems that they'd start breaking things-or bones. But they never do.

Draco may raise his hand to slap Harry, but Draco will end up throwing that same hand over Harry's shoulder as he presses his face into the nape of Harry's neck-to breathe Harry in; to hide his own red eyes.

Harry may stalk forward menacingly, as if to grab Draco in his anger, but instead his arms will open for Draco to run into. Harry's voice may rise in volume, but before he really shouts, it will crack a little and drop to a pleading whisper.

They rarely fight for long because they can't.

Because it's hard not to forgive someone you love so much.

Because it's too hard not to miss and forgive someone that reminds you so much- _of bliss._


	43. Loving

**A/N:** Just some conversations that I imagined Draco and Harry would have. It's definitely different. I don't have much time to perfect it so-comments are very much welcomed. And very much appreciated.

**Loving**

It's not hard to tell when two people are in love.

_What are you doing?_

_Trying to hold your hand._

_The muggles are looking._

_Do I look like I care?_

Their words.

_Do you love me?_

_What sort of question is that?_

_The sort you need to answer. _

_Don't I tell you I do every night?_

_Remind me._

_I love you, you silly idiot._

Their actions

_My toes are cold._

_I can tell._

_Warm them. _

_I'm trying._

_Well, they're still cold. _

_Oh hush._

Their whispers in the dark

_I could stay here forever and ever_

_By my side?_

_Right by your side. _

_That's nice._

_Yes, I think so too. _

Their murmurs under the covers

_I feel sick. _

_Poor baby._

_Kiss me better? _

_My Pleasure._

Their casual conversations

_You do love me, don't you?_

_Yes, I do._

_Good. _

_That's it?_

_What else were you expecting? _

_Maybe an "I love you too"?_

_I thought it was obvious. _

_It is?_

_I'm holding your hand aren't I? _

_Idiot._

_And you love it._

Their inane ramblings

_It's dark._

_Isn't it obvious?_

_It was just a comment. _

_And the point of said comment was?_

_To tell you it was dark. _

_I knew all Gryffindors were dorks._

_I resent that. _

_So bite me._

…

_YOU BIT ME._

_You asked for it._

Their mutual adoration

_What in Merlin's name are you doing? _

_Bouncing on the bed. Isn't it obvious?_

_Why? _

_The bed's nice and bouncy_

_You look like a 7 year old._

_I knew you were a paedophile. _

_Shut up and make some room for me. _

_Juvenile._

Their serious discussions

_Drago needs a girlfriend. _

_He's 3 months old!_

_He needs to learn how to socialise. _

_You mean you want to turn him into a playboy._

_He has the looks. _

_Don't you dare_

Their sappy dialogue

_How much do you love me? _

_Why do you like to have such conversations?_

_Humour me._

_I love you more than anything in the known universe. _

_For how long?_

_Till the oceans run dry and the universe collapses around us._

_Longer than forever?_

_Longer than forever. _

_I love you too, you sop._

Everything they do. Every word they breathe. Every move they make. Everything about them-shows their love.

It's definitely not hard to tell that Harry and Draco are in love.

Definitely not hard to tell at all.


	44. Holding

_A/N: Hello Everyone! Sorry for the long long looooong hiatus but school work is really killing everything. I am way way WAY behind on my lectures and my exams are like in 21 days. Sincere apologies to those who have emailed me about writing and stuff but I haven't even had time to reply to anyone or do anything! Here's a very very short one that isn't very good but just had to be written. Hope you guys don't hate it. I just hope I don't have to stop this._**

* * *

**

**Holding**

"Here take my hand." Harry offered.

"Whatever for?" Draco asked, confused.

"You'll see…" Harry said, smirking a little.

Draco eyed Harry's hand suspiciously before looking up into Harry's eyes for a clue as to what he actually wanted.

All Draco saw was mischievous delight.

Mesmerising mischievous delight.

Enthralled, Draco clasped his own hand around Harry's.

And was suddenly pulled into the circle of Harry's arms.

"Guess what I bought today," Harry whispered into Draco's hair.

"I can't really breathe, love." Draco muttered into Harry's shirt, voice heavily muffled, not really bothering to guess at all.

"I bought some Weasley's magical glue today." Harry murmured casually.

"Good for you, love, now can I breathe a little here or is that too much to ask?" Draco said, squirming a little against Harry's chest.

"And, I slathered some glue onto my shirt just now." Harry giggled slightly.

A long pause.

"You did what!" Draco shouted, panicking and struggling against Harry's tight grip. "Are you serious?"

Harry's laughter rang out across the room, but it was abruptly cut off when Draco jammed his knee into Harry's.

"No, love, I'd never do that to you. Though, I must say that having you plastered to my chest and in my arms 24/7 seems like a perfect idea." Harry teased.

"So I'm not actually stuck to your atrocious shirt?" Draco asked- his relief obvious.

"No. But you are stuck with me forever and ever." Harry smiled, while rubbing his cheek against Draco's perfectly smooth hair.

"Stop messing up my hair darling." Draco admonished mildly. "Then what was with all the hand grabbing and Draco squeezing?"

"I just felt like holding you." Harry replied.

"Oh." Draco breathed.

Draco burrowed deeper into Harry's arms. eliciting a contented sigh from Harry.

"That's nice."

And so they stayed like that-

Entwined in the living room-

On a typical Sunday afternoon at the Potter-Malfoy household.


	45. Grabbing

**A/N **Hello! Thanks for all the reviews. My exams are in 2 weeks so Expect no updates till after! Anyway I hope this one is well received. I find it mildly contrived. To those who do read this series-any suggestions and all comments are welcomed! I'll be writing when my exams are over so just post any suggestions you have. Thanks. Hope this one is not too bad. TTFN!

**

* * *

****Grabbing **

Draco gets taken with strange fits of jealousy sometimes.

At these times, he usually grabs Harry's hand and presses it to his chest, as if guarding a precious treasure.

"Mine!" is the word he usually blurts out.

The strangest things set off these fits of jealousy. The first time it happened, Harry had been scratching crookshank's tummy. According to Draco, the "creepy monster-cat" had been enjoying the attention too much.

The second time it had happened, Draco claimed that the waitress had been looking at Harry strangely. But Harry still maintains that this was probably because Draco had forced Harry into wearing matching couple shirts that day.

The last time it had happened, Draco had claimed a girl in the park had been looking at Harry too intently for normal interest. When asked to point out said girl, Draco had haughtily gestured in the direction of a nearby baby pram.

Harry has learned not to try and extricate himself from Draco's gentle yet somehow unyielding grip when this happens, even if everyone in the room starts peering suspiciously at them.

The growls Draco makes when Harry tries to do this are usually much worse.

Besides, although Harry would never admit it out loud, it wasn't that bad having Draco cradle his hand like that. It wasn't that bad at all.

* * *

Draco also has a little sheet of black parchment, on which he scribbles names in bright red.It's Draco's black list. 

The people on the list, apparently have designs on Harry and are considered Draco's mortal enemies until proven otherwise.

Harry usually tries to avoid these people, if only to humour Draco. But seriously, it was rather hard to avoid the magic mirror in the corridor to Harry's office.

Sometimes Draco scribbles down random names that Harry can't even remember.

Apparently some girl called Eliza in Sussex wrote too much fan mail for her own good.

Harry tries not to smile as Draco updates him on the growing number of people on his list every weekend.

Harry also tries his best not to kiss Draco's nose as Draco scrunches it in disdain while reading some of the names.

But then again maybe he doesn't try hard enough.

* * *

When faced with the question whether Draco's possessive streak was too much, Harry usually just smiles serenely. 

Harry never found it oppressive or suffocating.

He relished the attention.

At the end of the day, Harry just honestly liked being "Draco's".

And Draco's alone.


	46. Believing

**A/N:**_ Hello all! Thanks for all the suggestions and lovely reviews! I shall work on them asap! Especially the really great suggestions about Drago. Hope this one is up to scratch. I happen to think this is too sappy but well-I'll leave that to you guys to decide. All sorts of comments/thoughts are welcomed! Cheers!_

**

* * *

Believing**

Harry doesn't believe in fate.

Draco does.

Draco believes that it was fate that Harry fell into the drain by the pavement. Why this event was significant, Draco has yet to explain.

Except that it was possibly terribly amusing.

Draco believes that it was fate that the moment Draco wanted coffee, they arrived at a nice quaint little coffee place with red curtains.

Harry believes it was more to do with the fact that they were walking down a row of small coffee houses before Draco finally decided that he was in the mood for some caffeine.

Draco believes that it was fate that the restaurant they went to served chocolate cake. And therefore it gave him every right to order 2 servings of cake for dinner.

Harry believes that it was more to do with the fact that almost every restaurant served some form of chocolate cake and Draco was just looking for excuses to binge.

Draco understandably was not amused with such a suggestion and made his displeasure known using the nearest fork.

Of course Draco also believes that it was fate that said fork was so handily nearby.

Harry of course tried his best not to retort that all tables in restaurants had forks somewhere handy nearby.

Draco believes that it was fate that they met. Draco believes it was fate that they went to the same school, were born in the same year, lived in the same country…and so on. Draco believes that it was fate that they met and fell in love.

All that teenage angst was just pointing to ever-lasting love.

Draco believes in fate. But Harry doesn't.

However, Harry does believe in the future. He believes in them-forever. Maybe it was fate that they met. Maybe it was not. But one thing was for sure, fated or not, they would be together forever.

Fate and all that be damned.

Draco was his, and nothing would change that.

And Draco well-Draco believes that its fate that he fell in love with such a stubborn, sappy, Gryffindor fool.

Either that-or poetic justice.


	47. Preparing

_A/N: Thanks for all the nice reviews. I believe it was ga nat nat who semi-wished for something longer. This is longer but rather all over the place. It's about our two favourite boys preparing for Christmas. Hope you guys like it. Till the next post-Merry Christmas!_

**

* * *

Preparing**

"Fire in the hole!" Draco shouted before barrelling past a group of middle aged women to grab one of the stacked up fruitcakes.

"Move out of the way muggles!" Draco all but shrieked, "I have a wand and I'm not afraid to use it!"-earning him a few raised eyebrows.

Harry cringed and tried to hide behind the cans of tinned cocktail sausages.

But Draco, commander and chief of Christmas shopping at the Potter-Malfoy household, was having none of that rubbish.

Glaring at the woman with the garishly red scarf that had dared to push past him, he stomped to where Harry was.

"Draco, stop bullying the old ladies. It's embarrassing!" Harry whispered hurriedly, trying his best to pull away from Draco who was now randomly shoving people out of his path as he dragged Harry down the packed aisle.

"To the turkeys!" Draco announced commandingly, pointing forward imperiously, ignoring Harry's incessant tugging.

"That one!" Draco shouted gleefully, clapping his hands together in joyous celebration after pointing to a largish-turkey at the edge of the freezer as Harry tried to ignore the pointed looks people were giving him.

Unfortunately- someone else had set his sights on the very same turkey.

"Draco!" Harry hissed as he watched the love of his life unceremoniously try to wrestle the nicest looking turkey away from a man in a tweed jacket.

"But Harry-love, I grabbed it first!" Draco whined tugging at the large turkey as his opponent stolidly pretended that he was just trying to dislodge the turkey from the pile.

"We can just take another one!" Harry replied anxiously.

If this got down to a fist fight he wondered fleetingly if the shoppers would notice him stun the man.

"But all the rest have bloody bits!" Draco complained plaintively, still trying his best to win the turkey tug of war.

Harry was about to retort that all dead things had bloody bits when he made the mistake of looking directly at Draco.

And Draco was pouting.

"Help me please Harry?" Draco whispered sweetly, all the while not letting up his death grip on his prize.

Harry wavered.

And to his credit, Harry almost resisted.

But then Draco's lips quivered almost imperceptibly.

And Harry was lost.

Grabbing on to the other leg, Harry heaved.

Harry-nil. Draco- two thousand, four hundred and twelve.

The tweed-wearer was strong.

But he was no match for Harry and Draco.

No-he was no match all.

But before Draco could shout triumphantly about how fashion rejects should think twice about competing with perfect-blondes and wartime-heroes, Harry managed to drag him down the next aisle.

"My hero!" Draco gushed happily, all the while holding the turkey to his chest and swaying happily from side to side-looking just like a kid on Christmas morning with the toy he dreamed of the night before.

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Now, can we go?" Harry demanded, gently taking the large turkey from the still happily beaming Draco and stowing it safely in the shopping cart.

"Yes, love." Draco replied happily, twining his arms around Harry's and burying his face in Harry's neck.

Laughing slightly at Draco who was currently trying to snuggle closer to him, Harry slowly pushed their cart down the aisle towards the check-out counters.

"You're a regular old lady bully aren't you darling?" Harry whispered indulgently as Draco tried to bury his face deeper into the crook of Harry's neck.

Harry could feel Draco's smirk forming against the nape of his neck.

Pulling away just slightly, Draco whispered back, "But you love me all the same, right?" before happily returning his face back to Harry's neck as they waited for it to be their turn at the counter.

"What if I said no?" Harry laughed.

"Ouch! Draco!"

Draco sniggered, leaning back to admire the perfect imprints of his front teeth on Harry's neck.

"Lying is a bad thing, love, and we wouldn't want Santa to give you coal this year, would we?" Draco smirked.

Rubbing his neck, Harry smirked right back, "Someone has to keep you company."

Draco blinked once before breaking out into an unrepentant grin, "Good point, Harry-my-love. I am the embodiment of evil! And evil always gets coal! All shall quell in fear!"

The other shoppers in the nearby queue stared apprehensively as Draco waved his fist in the air.

Harry just laughed and pulled Draco back to his side.

"Stop, you're scaring the muggles." He admonished. Draco sniffed haughtily.

"If you play nice till we get home, we could roast marshmallows by the fire."

"I'd rather we played with our chocolate fondue set" Draco smiled, licking his lips suggestively.

Harry choked a little.

The queue suddenly seemed so much longer than before.

Draco sniggered.

It was looking to be a great Christmas.


	48. Thinking

A/N: This one's a bit long, but mainly because of all the nonsensical monologue I could jam in. I really enjoyed writing this one. The short "poem" at the end is also written by me. I love the idea of walking hand in hand with someone in the snow. Tell me if this was up to scratch! Merry Christmas everyone! On a side note I was thinking of moving to a livejournal. Any comments on that?

**

* * *

****Thinking**

"Hello Draco! I missed you! It's been such a long day! Stupid silly death eater stragglers. Ooh alliteration! Anyway-they always pick such stupid places to attack. My toe is itching. I love your chin. Did I tell you that before? I bet I did. You have such a nice chin. All pointy, perfect and well…perfect. Maybe I should read a thesaurus some day. I need more words to describe how perfect you are. You smell of home and of that poncy soap you like to use. I like how you smell. Do you like how I smell? How do I smell?"

Draco blinked.

Draco blinked again as Harry continued talking with a happy smile on his face.

Draco blinked again before snarling and turning on Ron.

"What! Did you do?" Draco growled angrily, pulling them both into the house.

Ron rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I didn't do anything, Malfoy. During the raid today, Harry got hit by a some sort of spell. Not sure what it is though. The mediwizard said he'd be fine in an hour or two, if not a little noisy."

"Don't bully Ron, Draco-dear. He didn't do anything. I'm fine. Should have been paying more attention but I was thinking of you. Last day of work today! Isn't that brilliant, love? A whole Christmas with you and Drago, it's going to be brilliant. Where is Drago anyway? He has your chin. Drago's like our kid isn't he love? We're a family, aren't we? That's nice. I've always wanted my own little family. But well, children would be nice. Ooh! A mini-Potter-Malfoy, running around wreaking havoc with messy silver-blonde hair, a pointy-perfect chin and green eyes!"

Draco choked a little.

No Malfoy, even a half Malfoy was going to have messy hair.

"What does the spell do to him, Weasley?" Draco demanded, carefully guiding a still talking Harry to the couch.

"It kind of makes him say whatever comes to mind. Like Veritaserum, but maybe a bit worse." Ron chuckled slightly. "You should have heard him while we were coming here. He wouldn't stop going on about how pretty the house was. Or how adorable you were for that matter."

"I am _not_ adorable." Draco muttered, blushing slightly and ignoring Harry's indignant monologue about how Draco should just admit he was the cutest blond on earth. "I'm evil. Evil _doesn't do_ adorable."

Ron smirked. "Right, that."

Draco glared.

"See! Ron thinks so too! You're cute! My little, cuddly, snugly, Draco! Mine! And you're not evil. Maybe a bit devious, warped and strange but then who isn't? It's not like you go around stealing candy from babies. Kayla likes you. So you're not evil. Babies can sense evil. I think. Or maybe not. Ooh! Kayla! Wait till she sees what we got her! She'll be so happy! Wait till you see what I got you, Draco! Oh my god. Cannot think of it. Shall not think of it. No thinking of my brilliant gift for Draco. Argh! Quick! Someone change the topic. Oh my god oh my god! Tape my mouth! Ron! Help!"

Ron laughed.

Draco's eyes took on a devious gleam.

"Well, it's been great listening to your inner monologue, mate. You sure have one interesting mind, but I'll be off now. See you both tomorrow right?" Ron asked, grinning.

Draco simply nodded.

And Harry uncovered his mouth to blurt out "Yes. Of course you will. Unless of course I'm still like this then I'm going to hide under the bed till I stop talking. Ooh! The bed! I like our bed. Nice silky sheets, very good for…" before covering it back again.

"We'll see you, Weasley." Draco said evenly while showing Ron out, favouring him with a small smile before closing the door.

"My jaw hurts, Draco. I want top stop talking! This is horrible! Now you will know all the stupid things that run through my mind! I do think of some really stupid things. I mean no, no. I think of smart things. I like your ears. They're almost pointy. Like an elf's. Maybe we could play dress up! I could be Santa, you could be my perfect-elf and Drago could be Rudolf!"

Draco snorted.

"I don't like beards. And I don't think Drago would appreciate you making him wear a red nose. Neither would he like pulling anything. Our baby's not meant for manual labour." Draco cut in, smirking a little.

"Pish-posh, love. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. And I could be a slim, beardless santa. Speaking of Rudolf, remember how I told you my dad used to be an animagus. A stag! I do love deer. Are Reindeers the same as deers? Stags are pretty! Maybe the next pet we get should be a stag! We could name him Prongs! Just like my dad's old nick name!"

Smiling indulgently, Draco slid off the couch gracefully and walked towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going? Oh look! Drago! Daddy's home! Were you lazing about in bed again? Or was it that sun-spot you so love. You really do have Draco's chin. Did you miss Daddy? What did you do today? Learned how to terrorise the masses huh? Draco is a bad influence. Aw! I like the way you purr. Sometimes Draco sounds like he's purring too."

Draco returned to the living room with a glass of pumkin juice for Harry to find Harry murmuring continuously about their plans for Christmas while stroking a rather content looking Drago.

Draco smiled.

"Hey love, why are you smiling at me like that? I like how you smile at me. Like I'm the only one on earth you really want to smile for. Am I? Ah, I love it when you caress my face. I like the pressure of your fingers on my face. I'm sorry I'm babbling, darling. I really can't help it. I can see your lashes from here. Did you know that they're curled at the ends? I've always known. I do so love you. Now you're smiling like I gave the world to you. I would if I could. Or would you prefer the moon. Your eyes remind me of the moon. I love you, Draco. I…"

And then-sudden silence.

Nothing but the sound of falling snow on the outside, the crackling fire on the inside, Drago's purring, the sound of lips on lips and the delighted sound of contentment from the back of Harry's throat.

No sound, but the sound of two people in love and their very amused kitten.

_When it's snowing,_

_Take my hand and_

_Walk with me_

_We'll leave our footprints_

_Yours and mine_

_Side by side_

_For all the world to see._


	49. Waking

_A/N: A christmas gift to all my reviewers and readers-A poem from Harry's point of view on Christmas morning. Have a great holidays everyone.__

* * *

_

Good morning love

_Its Christmas morning_

_Don't hide_

_The sun is shining._

_No it's not a dream_

_Its time you were waking_

_No-I can't turn the sun off_

_Now stop pretending_

_Let go of my waist_

_I can see you smiling_

_Yes you did drool_

_I wasn't laughing_

_That will leave a mark_

_Stop giggling_

_Shall we wake now?_

_No compromising_

_Okay-a little while longer_

_I can feel you smirking_

_Yes-I'll draw the curtains_

_You're so demanding_

_And yes-I still love you_

_Merry Christmas Darling_

_But no more biting._


	50. Counting

A/N: Here's a little something I wrote 2.5 hours before the New Year in my time zone. Hope you guys like it. It's for all those who read my rubbish. Happy 2007!

**

* * *

Counting**

"Is it twelve yet?"

"No!"

"Now?"

"No!"

"How about now?"

"Argh!"

"So it's now then?"

"No, not yet."

"Maybe now?"

"No, darling."

"Could it be now?"

"For the last time no!"

"Well how about now!"

"No, no, no, no."

"How long more?"

"NO!"

"I asked how long more, you know."

"Oh. 3 more minutes."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"I'm bored."

"This was your idea in the first place!"

"Better than your idea of lazing about by the moving-muggle-picture-box"

"And it's also freezing up here."

"I told you to wear a scarf."

"I need to pee."

"What!"

"I really need to pee!"

"There is no way you'll be able to fly down, run into the house, pee, and fly back up here before twelve."

"I don't see why you want to do it here anyway."

"It's romantic."

"I guess I could hold it for one more minute."

"YAY! That means it's soon!"

"Yes."

"So is it now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"Draco, why didn't you wear a watch?"

"Because you're wearing one!"

"…"

"So is it time?"

"NO!"

"Oh."

"Oh wait…it is time. Happy New Year love!"

"Mmmm…you taste like champagne. I love you, sunshine."

"Okay, I have got to pee. I think my bladder is going to explode into tiny smithereens and rain urine down on our front lawn."

"…Of all the things you could have said to me in the New Year and you had to choose that."

Draco sniffed haughtily.

Harry laughed.

"Yes, I love you too."

And as the clock struck 12, some muggles down the street thought they saw two people, on broomsticks, against the moon frozen in a perfect kiss. But then they were all too drunk for anyone to believe them.

But for Harry and Draco, it was a happy new year indeed.


	51. Waiting2

A/N: This is something I wrote from Draco's point of view, waiting for Harry to come back from a mini-skirmish of sorts against, well...evil people. Hope You guys like it. Comments are very much welcomed-both good and bad.

**Waiting**

You wait for him to come back, knowing that he may never walk through that very door. Knowing very well that he may be gone in the next minute or two.

You sit by the side, on most days, and watch the time fly by. You realise that your waiting my be in vain but you wait anyway.

You imagine the dangers he may be facing, and somehow dust gets into your eye every single time, and you end up crying. You wonder to yourself that maybe it is time to start cleaning the place. But you actually never get down to it.

Somedays, you wait on the couch. Because its more comfortable and also because it sort of smells like him. After a few months, the smell is fainter, and more like you, so you steal some of his clothes from the cupboard up the stairs.

Its faint. Getting fainter.

You wish that you knew when he could come back. You wish that wishes did come true.

You can see yourself wasting away. Slowly. You wonder if it is possible to die from missing someone. You wonder if you will be the first person to.

He said he would come back. He said that he wouldn't lose. He said that he would never leave you alone. He said alot of things. You wonder if what he said will come true. You wonder if he will come back to you.

Days pass, and others lose hope. But you don't, because he promised. And he has never broken his promises to you. Never.

When a note arrives, it is short, badly written and half torn at the edge. You recognise his scrawl and your heart clenches slightly and for some reason, your brain cannot process the words.

"Wait for me."

Is all it says.

You want to shout, scream and cry. You are waiting. Still waiting. Always waiting. Tired of waiting.

News of victory spreads fast. Its splashed all over the papers that are delivered to your door every morning. You ignore the words and flip vainly through the pages for a photo.

The couch smells nothing like him anymore. His shirts smell like you. Everything smells like you. Only you.

You hold the note in your hand. Tightly. And wait on the floor by the door. And you wait. Because he asked you to. Because you want to. Because you have to.

You fall asleep waiting.

You don't realise it, but when the door opens, the shadow of his face falls perfectly on yours.

He's home.

And the house no longer smells so lonely.


	52. Stalking

A/N: _ apologise for the lack of updates and replies to mails from reviewers. I have been having exams. My next exams are starting again soon so it will probably be a long time before the next update. I wrote a very strange one shot during my exams, unlike these short stories that one was depressing, don't read it if you don't like angst. Okay, enough blabber. Thanks for all the reviews. I really do take all of them into consideration. Hope you guys like this one. It's dedicated to my friend who really is being stalked. Your comments, good and bad, and any suggestions, as always, are welcomed. Cheers!_

* * *

Stalking

Harry was being stalked.

Harry was being stalked at work.

Harry was being stalked at work by the new department secretary called Evy.

At first Draco sniggered and ruffled Harry's hair.

"Mine!" Draco had said. "Yours." Harry had repeated indulgently.

Then Draco had sulked because Evy had somehow scheduled it such that Harry had to go to work late on Friday with her. "Stupid useless cow" Draco had muttered angrily. "Yes she is" Harry had muttered along with him while holding him close late that night; too tired for anything else.

Stupid stupid cow.

Then Draco just got plain annoyed.

Harry sincerely tried getting Kingsley to transfer out Evy. But apparently, besides her 'mildly unhealthy interest in Harry's welfare', she was the perfect department secretary.

Draco of course ranted, raved and threatened Kingsley with all sorts of bodily harm. But Kingsley absolutely refused to transfer Evy out.

Stupid Kingsley.

Stupid useful cow.

Harry, as usual, didn't know how to handle stalkers well. He was gentle, polite and tactful.

Stupid Silly, lovely, perfect Harry.

So of course Draco just had to give him lessons on how to ward off unwanted attention.

Harry, the dutiful boyfriend, practised the patented Draco Malfoy Sneer © every morning. And each time Evy smiled at him or hovered near him, he threw a sneer in her direction.

Sadly, Harry just ended up looking constipated each time he tried.

The last sickle that broke the huffaluffahump's back fell during Sunday brunch at their favourite café. While sipping coffee and expounding his wit to his beloved Harry, out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw her.

Stupid stupid cow.

She was in the corner of the café, in completely out-of –fashion sunglasses and a hideously brown tweed trench coat. It didn't matter that it was spring of course, and that brown tweed had been outlawed by the fashion police.

Stupid fashion-reject-cow.

Draco knew just what to do. He smiled at Harry winningly and said "Harry-love, I think your evil cow stalker is sitting over there. I think I'll go talk to her a bit okay?"

Harry knew he had to protest, had to warn Draco not to do anything illegal, had to say something like "no biting okay?" but then Draco kissed him and all thoughts flew out his proverbial window.

Stupid Draco and his stupidly stunning kisses.

Harry watched as Draco sauntered towards Evy. Like a panther advancing on its prey.

Harry watched as Evy's face paled by the second as Draco waved his spidery long fingers in her face, flicking his fingers now and again, as if each flick could remove part of her face.

Harry watched as Draco smiled toothily. The same smile Draco used just before he asked to see someone's manager- before he got them fired for lousy service. The same smile Draco used before wreaking havoc on someone's life.

Harry then watched the love of his life slink back from the now pale and shocked girl and sit primly back at his seat. "Shall we go now, love?" Draco smiled sweetly. Harry who had never had someone defend him from a stalker so heroically before couldn't help but smile back. "Okay love."

Of course Kingsley wasn't impressed when he had to find a new secretary for the department. But that was Kingsley's problem.

Draco was just happy no one was bothering _his _Harry anymore.

And Harry? Harry was just happy he had the energy to spend Friday nights_ properly_ with Draco.

_Hohoho._


	53. Protecting

A/N: For all those who liked Waiting2 (I do recall a review with the words 'waiting3! waiting3!' Haha) this is something in the same style. I actually like this style of writing very much but it seems to suit only melancholic pieces so I tend to avoid it when writing for this fic. But well, I figured this one was sweet enough to make the cut-so here it is. Hope you guys like it. Reviews/ comments are very much welcomed. This was inspired while reading some of the reviews you guys gave. I can't remember who but one of you guys suggested a chapter called comforting/crying. This is the closest I could come to something like that. What can I say, I'm a sap. Once again, thanks for reading/commenting. I am honoured.

* * *

Protecting

You know something is wrong when he gets home and tosses his coat onto the umbrella stand and stares blankly into the corridor

You know something is wrong when he gets home and crawls into your arms without so much as a 'hello love'.

You know something is definitely wrong when he proceeds to bury his face in your chest, holding you so tight you think he might leave bruises.

But you don't say anything. You just let him hold you. You hum that silly love song he so likes, the one about forever and the moon. You hum and run your fingers through his hair- just like he likes you to.

When he falls asleep, you carefully worm your way out from under him. And then you call Weasley, to demand to know what happened.

Weasley tells you of how they failed to save a young woman at work that day. He tells you how they found her dead, under the bridge, despite apparating the moment they had gotten the call about screams being heard in the vicinity. He tells you how the woman had blonde hair just like yours. He tells you how Harry had turned pale the moment he had seen the pale blonde hair stark against the mud. He tells you, and you understand.

You walk back into the living room and smooth his hair out of his face. You see the frown lines marring his perfect face and you wish you could kiss them away. But you know he needs his sleep for now, so you settle for gently stroking his hair. You wish he would realise that he can't save everyone. You wish you could save everyone for him. You wish you could take him away from the cruel world. You wish and you try not to cry as your heart twists slightly when his frown deepens in his sleep.

A few moments later, you're not sure how long, his eyes fly open suddenly. It's obvious to you that he is searching for you. You murmur a soft 'hello love' and he relaxes visibly. His face turns towards you and he smiles sadly. 'Had a bad day?' you ask. He just opens his arms for you in answer. As always, you smile slightly and lean into the embrace. 'I love you, you know that right?' he asks. You pull back slightly to look into his earnest perfectly emerald eyes. You lean your forehead against his. 'I know.' You reply.

That night, when you lie in his arms, you realise he is still awake. You can practically hear the wheels turning in his head. As usual, he is worried for your safety. You find this all terribly ironic since you have a desk job and he is the one launching himself head first into danger at every turn. 'I'll protect you' he murmurs into the back of your neck, thinking you're asleep. You wait a few more moments before turning slowly, as if still asleep, till your face is on his chest, his arms still encircling you. You listen as his heart beat slows and his breathing evens out. And when you are sure he is completely asleep, you whisper back 'I'll protect you too love' before joining him in sweet slumber.

The kitten, sleeping between both of you, decides to protect you both.


	54. Breaking

A/N: It was either The OC or Desperate Housewives because I cannot imagine Draco watching anything else. Heh.

* * *

Breaking 

It's been a long time since Harry has waken up without Draco beside him.

It's been a long time since Harry has done anything without Draco beside him.

So when Draco comes down with a horrible case of food poisoning and lands himself in St Mungo's, Harry doesn't know what to do.

It's against the rules to lie in bed with the patient

But Harry doesn't care and climbs in with Draco and rubs his stomach even though Draco protests that he smells of sweat and vomit.

It's against the rules to bring pets into the wards

But Harry smuggles in Drago under his shirt and Drago tries to lick Draco better, sulking when Draco remains that pale-sickly colour.

It's against the rules to visit after hours.

But Harry brings his Invisibility Cloak and hides under it every time the nurses come. He makes strange buzzing noises and tries to pretend that he is a fly. Draco tries not to giggle because it makes the pain worse.

It's against the rules to harass the mediwizards.

But Harry threatens them with all sorts of bodily harm and shouts about the deplorable health care system nowadays, trying to get them to do something more than just let Draco's body take care of it. Draco tries not to laugh at the terrified expressions of the nurses because that hurts worse than giggling.

It's against the rules to bring strange muggle equipment into the wards because muggle germs are rather infectious.

But Harry disinfects the muggle-moving-picture box and brings it anyway, so they can watch The O.C together like they always do.

It's against the rules for the patient's to wear anything other than the provided attire.

But Harry brings Draco's silk pyjamas with him and changes him carefully. He doesn't say anything when Draco throws up on him, merely whispers reassuringly while waving the mess away. Drago watches with wide eyes and snuggles closer to Draco to make it better.

It's against the rules to kidnap the patient without signing out certain forms.

But Harry doesn't care and he carries Draco out of the hospital once Draco stops throwing up, muttering angrily about useless mediwizards and overly touchy-feely male nurses. Draco holds onto Harry and smiles into his neck as Harry apparates both of them home.

Drago is there to greet them as they enter the front door. Draco ruffles the kitten's hair and for once Drago doesn't yowl angrily but purrs happily.

It's against the rules to break into the hospital.

But Harry does it anyway because he accidentally left the television set (charmed to be invisible) in Draco's room, and The O.C was on in an hour.

It's against the rules to do a lot of things.

But since when has Harry followed the rules.

Never.


	55. Living

**A/N** A collection of plot bunnies that I couldn't seem to expand on, so I decided to combine them as a view of what Harry and Draco's lives are like, I guess. Any more suggestions as to what to write about are very very much welcomed because as you can tell, I'm running out of ideas. Thanks for all the reviews! And well, seriously, thanks for reading. **

* * *

**

**LIVING**

"Problem!" Draco's shrill call rang out from the bedroom, causing Harry to jump a little.

"Yes, darling?" Harry called back, steadying his voice carefully.

"It's time that we had _the_ talk with Drago." Draco replied, voice getting louder as he entered the living room to join Harry.

"The talk? Which talk exactly are we talking about here?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Don't try to play with words, love, you don't do it well." Draco murmured endearingly while absently patting Harry's lap. "Our little kitten's come of age!"

Harry still looked rather nonplussed. "Of age? Of age for what? Draco, dear, kittens don't get accepted to Hogwarts…"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Our Drago has become a hot-blooded-young cat!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis.

Harry laughed.

"I'm being serious here Harry! When I came out of the bathroom I saw him reading cat porn!" Draco raved, kicking Harry a little to try and stop him from laughing.

Harry laughed more.

"Cat porn!" Draco reiterated, carefully enunciating the words and rolling his 'r' for emphasis. "The cats were completely naked! In the buff! Baring their knockers! Cavorting in their birthday suits!"

But before Draco could continue, Harry -ever the voice of reason- cut in. " Darling, kittens or cats…are always naked. They don't, ever, wear clothes?"

"MERLIN!" Draco shrieked. "Those Heathens!"

* * *

"Muggles are insane." Draco announced to Harry. 

"It's called extreme sports, love." Harry explained patiently.

"I don't see why anyone would want to jump off a perfectly good bridge to plunge towards the ground only to be pulled back up by a large rubber band." Draco replied, voice tinged with disdain as he gestured in the general direction of their television set.

"It's exciting. It's the same reason why you like to jump off perfectly good towers." Harry said while reaching out to play with Draco's ear a little.

Moving his head a little, to try and dislodge Harry's fingers, which were tickling him, Draco continued, "I jump off perfectly good towers with perfectly good brooms. There's a marked difference, Harry."

Harry laughed.

* * *

_**Desist from sending Auror Potter anymore ludicrous messages during missions. The kitten breaking a nail can not be considered a life and death matter. I will not tolerate anymore notes Malfoy. Any further notes will be confiscated and viciously incinerated.**_

_**-Moody**_

_Dearest Harry-my-love,_

_Your boss sucks._

_Love always,_

_Your ever-perfect-Draco_

* * *

"You did what!?" Harry shrilled. 

Draco eyed Harry calmly and proceeded to gracefully seat himself on the living room couch, obviously declining to answer.

"Draco…" Harry's tone was low and almost a growl of frustration.

But Draco was unimpressed.

Rolling his eyes at having to repeat himself, Draco answered, "I, my darling, signed us up to be part of the Win-win Male Escort Service."

Harry spluttered.

"Free food Harry. And besides-it was your idea to do some community service." Draco drawled, as he lazily draped his feet over the arm of the couch.

"It's not charity work if you get paid!" Harry moaned.

"I'm letting some girl cling to my arm at a pathetic price of 50 galleons per hour. That's more than charity! It's practically daylight robbery!" Draco retorted huffily, insulted that Harry didn't like his newest brilliant plan.

Harry couldn't find the words to argue.

* * *

"I have a plan." 

Harry choked on his morning coffee.

Clearing his throat almost cautiously, he asked, "What is it this time, love?"

"Money." Draco stated emphatically.

"Money?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes, love. We will bribe the principal of the playschool to take Drago in." Draco announced triumphantly.

"For the last time Draco, they don't accept kittens!" Harry replied.

"Racists!"

_**

* * *

**_

_Dear Harry_

_I'm bored. Entertain me._

_Love always,_

_Your perfect wonderful sexy Draco_

**Draco-I'm in the middle of a mission!**

_Dearest Harry,_

_MERLIN! Is that MUD? Did you just write a note to me with MUD?_

_Love always,_

_Your perfect, but thoroughly disgusted, Draco_

**Draco. Moody is not amused. And Yes. It's not like I carry an ink and a quill with me when I go traipsing about the swamp. Watch TV. **

_Dear muddy, dirty love-of-my-life,_

_But there's nothing nice on! And I miss you. Drago says hi. It's been 24 hours since you left. Are you not done? What is with you and swamps anyway?_

_Still bored…_

_And on a side note, do you know where my favourite shirt went? I can't find it anywhere._

_…_

_Oh my god, you took it didn't you. You took MY FAVOURITE SHIRT TO THE SWAMPS._

_…_

_If you get it muddy, I will kill you._

_Love always,_

_Your very un-amused Draco_

**It helps me sleep; smells of you. And no more mail for the next 5 or so hours. We're moving in. **

_Moving where?_

**DRACO!!**

* * *

A/N Hope you guys liked it. Comments are welcome! And much appreciated because I've hit a total road block :s 


	56. Understanding

**A/N:** From Pansy's point of view- Thanks to the suggestion from_ Cheska _about doing one with Draco's friends. Thank you! I hope you guys like this one. More suggestions and comments are very much appreciated! (especially suggestions because they really inspire me. HEH) Thanks for reading...

**

* * *

**

There are a lot of things in this world that Pansy finds hard to understand.

Like why unicorns have only one horn in the middle of nowhere.

Like why butterflies had to flit about in that distracting haphazard way.

Or like why nature just had to make all the grass and leaves Slytherin colours.

It wasn't that green was a bad colour, really, it was just that Pansy had had enough of Draco's "Why everyone, including, Mother Nature, thinks Slytherin rocks" talks. But then again, they were at least better than Draco's "Why Harry's eyes are the perfect green" talks.

But what Pansy really doesn't understand is how Draco ended up falling in love with Harry-I-can't-colour-coordinate-Potter.

Pansy doesn't understand what's so dizzying about the way Harry smiles. She doesn't understand why Draco practically swoons each time Harry throws a smile his way. Potter's smile really wasn't that great, in fact, it was rather lopsided.

Pansy doesn't understand what's so endearing about the way Harry raves at the muggle-moving-picture-box. It was kind of disturbing actually. She doesn't understand why Draco can't help but ruffle Harry's hair and squeeze him close each time this happens. Sometimes she wonders if Draco accidentally drank a love potion…or a fluff-and-sap potion.

Pansy doesn't understand what's so great about the way Harry likes to tackle Draco with surprise hugs. She thinks it's dangerous and barbaric. She doesn't understand why Draco giggles and laughs instead of whipping out his wand like he would if it was anyone else.

She doesn't understand at all, she really doesn't.

When she asks Draco to explain it to her, he just smiles and blathers on about comfort and joy. Pansy thinks she can almost see fluffy bunnies springing out from Draco's head.

She asks Draco what he loves about Harry but always, Draco says "I just do. What is there not to love?" And always, Pansy doesn't understand.

It's been five years now. And Pansy still doesn't understand a thing about Harry and Draco.

But she has stopped trying to understand.

Because true love, was beyond mortal comprehension.


	57. Cleaning

Cleaning

Harry does his own laundry. Harry does Draco's laundry. Harry does Drago's laundry. Harry knows there are house elves to do the laundry. But he doesn't care. He loves doing the laundry.

Harry collects the clothes from the laundry basket. One piece at a time. Humming off key from memories of old love songs. Harry frowns at Drago's kitten pants, previously white-now grey. Harry glares at Draco's jeans, now fraying at the edges. Harry gags at his own shorts, purportedly black-now caked with mud. Harry collects them all, one piece at a time and makes sure his abhorrently dirty clothes don't stain Draco's pristine ones.

The laundry basket was one they both loved. Rattan with two adorable little handles. Large. Almost perpetually comandeered by Drago for use as a bed.

Harry carries the slightly-too-large basket to the washing machine. As usual, he will smile lovingly at it and give it a pat, as if it deserved one for not running away from his muddy clothes. Draco always laughs and says Harry's scar makes him funny in the head. Drago usually purrs his agreement.

Harry unloads the washer one piece of clothing at a time, reveling in the nice soap scent. He unloads the washed clothes into the dryer which is as expected, right beside the washer. "Hello my stalwart friend" Harry sometimes mumbles to himself as he does the transfer. On days Draco is around to hear this, he always snorts into Harry's hair-because if he's there he's always hugging Harry from behind.

Harry loves collecting the dried laundry. He loves piling the clothes up on his arms till he can barely see past the mountain of warm cloth. He absolutely adores throwing the whole pile onto the bed and hearing the "whump" sound it makes as the pile hits the blankets.

Should Draco be there he would admonish Harry for his gross mistreatment of clothes. Should Draco be around he would patiently start to fold the clothes or order a House elf to do so. Should Draco be around he would stop Harry from launching head first into the mountain of clothes and burrowing into the warmth like a manic mole rat on a soil trip. But Draco is not there this time. So Harry does just that and languishes in the scent of newly washed crisp and warm shirts, socks, kitty clothes and pants. Drago, of course, joins him in his manic tour of the land of warm clothes- purring contentedly.

Bliss.

When Draco's not around and Harry does the laundry, he's always very sure where he can find Harry when he returns. When Draco's not around and Harry does the laundry on his own, Draco always heads to the bedroom first. And as always he will find Harry and Drago, both buried under the clothes- asleep. And as he always does, he will carefully clear the clothes off them till he can see their sleeping faces. "Hello love" he always whispers. "Hello my family" he always murmurs sweetly before burrowing beside them to sleep as well.

Domestic Bliss.


	58. Arriving

**DH Arriving**

When Harry arrived at London's International Flooport, he tumbled ungracefully out of the fireplace clearly marked "Cambodia". It had been a harrowing week of chasing and planning but they had finally caught the rest of the Dark Arts artifact smuggling ring. Needing rest and hugs and kisses from his beloved he had headed back a day early-leaving his team to wrap up the case.

Brushing the soot off his robes, he scanned the crowd for the familiar smirk he had missed so much.

Weary as he was, Harry couldn't help but grin.

Away from the crowd, leaning casually against the wall with his legs crossed and eyes closed was Draco. The black headphones were a stark contrast to Draco's white-blond hair but they matched perfectly with his muggle outfit of dark blue jeans and white shirt-with the sleeves rolled up.

Just the way Harry liked it.

Taking in the sight of his beloved after so many months, Harry finally noticed the orange ball of fluff on Draco's right shoulder.

His grin widened.

His whole family was here.

Draco's eyes drifted open and when he caught sight of Harry-he smiled. It wasn't the most brilliant smile. It wasn't the world's happiest smile. But to Harry-it was perfect. Carefully, Draco put away his headphones and music player-a gift, from Harry, before gently awakening Drago with his fingers.

It was all Harry could do not to blast a hole through the glass and run to them, instead he calmly and quickly walked towards the exit.

Draco didn't run either. He glided. Harry marveled.

When Harry stepped out of the restricted area-Draco was waiting.

"Welcome home, love. We've run out of chocolates. " he murmured into Harry's ear as Drago purred contentedly.

Harry laughed.

Welcome home indeed.


	59. Missing2

Missing in this case would imply Missing in action. Inspired by Ghostlycat who in a review suggested something from Hermione's point of view.

* * *

** Missing**

It's a Tuesday when Hermione gets the news at work. It's via a floo call from Kingsley himself. She remembers the exact moment she stops breathing.

"I'm sorry Herminone, Harry and Ron are missing in action".

The first thing she does is to floo to The Burrow to hold her daughter. Kaylyn laughs and smacks her rattle loudly against the table when she sees her mother. Hermione tries not to cry.

The second thing she does is to floo Draco who at 5 o'clock should already be at home waiting for Harry's return. The house is a mess. She sees books all over the floor and she can hear Drago yowling in the background. She's now sure where the ugly bruise on Kingsley's left eye came from. She can hear the sound of Draco cursing everyone and no one in general.

He's a mess. His eyes are swollen and his hair is for once, completely disheveled. The kitten prowls the front door, obviously agitated-as if fully understanding the situation. When he looks at her she can almost feel the absolute terror rolling off him in waves. It feeds her own.

They cry together on the kitchen floor-each sob tearing out from their throat.

It's dark by the time she's calm enough to go home to her daughter.

-.-

The next day, Hermione doesn't go to work. She decides to stay home to wait with Kaylyn. Her daughter watches the door. She knows. Hermione's heart clenches. She tries not to cry in front of her daughter.

When she floos Draco she is surprised to see that the house is normal again. Draco's eyes are swollen but he is no longer a sobbing mess.

"He's coming home" is all Draco says. "They both are"

His voice is firm, resolute.

She holds on to it like a life line and uses his strength and faith to keep herself afloat.

-.-

The third day and still no news. Hermione is losing hope.

When she floos Draco at his office-he's not there. She finds him at home, asleep by the door wearing one of Harry's shirts. She doesn't wake him. Instead, she goes home and cries in Molly's arms.

Draco floos her when it's dark.

"They're coming home." He says. Eyes glinting dangerously in the firelight. "Because Harry won't leave without saying goodbye and he won't let Ron leave without saying goodbye either". Draco smiles a sad smile. "He's disgustingly stubborn that way".

Hermione believes him.

-.-

On the fourth day she receives a call from St Mungo's. Harry and Ron were found at the edge of the forest. Harry had a broken leg and Ron a broken arm. They were both magically drained from exhaustion and pain.

She almost trips on the living room carpet in her rush to get there.

When she arrives she sees Draco already there. His forehead on Harry's chest and the sunlight glinting off his absurdly pale blond hair. The kitten is there too, curled protectively around Harry's head-no doubt smuggled in.

She bursts into tears when she sees Ron on the bed beside Harry and she holds him so tightly he chokes a bit.

"I'm fine." Ron croaks.

She squeezes his arm and he screams in pain.

"You're not fine" she mutters almost angrily.

-.-

When Draco does leave the hospital to take a shower-2 days later, Hermione sits in his chair to talk to Harry.

She tells Harry how Draco gave Kingsley a black eye and watches as he laughs-obviously amused. She tells Harry how Draco cried and watches as he sobers up-obviously feeling guilty for having caused so much pain. She tells Harry how the only reason she could stay strong was because Draco wouldn't give up and watches as his mouth turns up in a secretive smile.

"That's because he's disgustingly stubborn that way" he says.

-.-

And Hermione thinks to herself

"They both are"


	60. Dancing2

_Authors note: I'm sure you can figure out who's point of view this is from. For my best friend. Who tantalises many._

**Dancing**

His pale blond hair swirls under the strobe lights. His eyes taunt, tease and tantalise. His mouth curls in an inviting smirk. His laughter dances around you. It's contagious.

The others. They hover around him. They all want a turn with him. They want to be seen beside him. They want him to see them. They buy him drinks. Many. Magharitas. Pina Coladas. Vodka. Wine. They want him inebriated. They want him happy. They want his smile. They want him.

He dances with abandon. His hips twist and turn and his hands move gracefully above him, in time. You watch him and the music is of no consequence. The press of bodies around him fades away. All you see is him in his carmine red shirt-sensuous over pale flawless skin. Captivating.

You don't care that he smiles at them. His smiles are cold. Polite. Icy. You don't care that they touch him. He always flicks their hands away as if they were merely motes of dust marring his perfection. And they are. You know he thinks they are. You know he can take care of himself.

Oh they all want him. It's obvious to the world. But they can't have him can they? No they can't. And they know that too. Oh they know all too well. Because his gray eyes rarely leave your green ones. And his smile-that teasing, tantalising and knowing one-full of secret and promise-that smile, is just for you.

And when he all but glides to your seat by the bar and leans his head against yours, slightly breathless, you realise what you love the most about such trips to the club. You realise you love how no matter who he dances with, no matter how many pretty boys try, no matter how many drinks they offer him-he always searches for you at the end of the day. His hand always finds yours. And the drinks they offer always stand untouched in a row beside the half-drunk glass of ridiculously expensive champagne you order for him.

Oh they want him. It's obvious. But they can't have him. Because he is yours. And you realise that you love the jealous looks the others give you. Every. Single. Time. Draco goes home with you. **And only** **you.**


	61. Volunteering

_Merry Christmas to my faithful readers! Especially those who have been reading from the start. I hope this amuses you and does not dissappoint..._

Volunteering

"HELP! HARRY! I am being attacked by deranged sprites!" Draco shouted from across the room, obviously trying his best to peel off the blonde haired child clinging onto his back. "Harry! Don't laugh! Do your hero thing and save me! This hellion is heavy!" Draco shouted again, more insistent this time, swaying about unsteadily.

Harry laughed even more.

They were at the wizarding orphanage just off Diagon Alley, helping out with the decorations for Christmas and Draco was obviously enjoying himself.

"AAAA! HARRY! HE BIT ME!"

Or not.

They had found the place completely by accident. Harry didn't even know there was a wizarding orphanage. A nondescript little building, tucked away in the corner-it looked like a dilapidated motel more than anything else. The sign proclaiming it an orphanage was so whitewashed that you could barely make out the letters anymore. In fact, they never would have even noticed it if not for Drago. The now-not-so-little kitten had leapt off his normal perch on Draco's shoulder during a shopping trip and gotten lost in the crowd. Harry and Draco had of course been frantic; Draco screaming retribution on anyone who stepped on his kitten and Harry shouting for everyone to be careful where they tread. It was Draco who had finally found Drago-just outside the orphanage, purportedly being tortured by two midgets. Thankfully, Harry had arrived just in time to stop Draco from turning the "midgets" into cupcakes. It turned out that the two "diminutively evil fiends" were actually a pair of twins from the orphanage, petting the adorable kitty they had found.

The twins were had dark blonde hair, bright green eyes, angular features and a slightly starved look to them. At first they had assumed that the twins were both boys but Leiya had soon corrected them of their heinous misconception. Draco had been horrified. "You mean to tell me that you, are a girl?!" he had asked incredulously. "Yes mister deaf and utterly dumb. I am a girl. The superior gender." Harry would never forget the look of utter disbelief on Draco's face.

"HELP! Now _she_ is biting me! DRAGO! MON CHATON! SAVE ME! HARRY! You useless cretin! Stop laughing and come here!" Draco demanded as he waved his arm about to keep his balance as another blonde child attempted to climb up his leg.

The twins had taken to Draco like the evil duck from the park did to water. They adored leaping on to him every time Harry and Draco came to visit. Always shouting "ATTACK!" before launching themselves on to his chest and legs. Draco, despite his protests never once attempted to run away.

A loud shout was all that came before a resonating thud-and Draco fell to the floor, the twins clambering atop him to celebrate their victory.

"Harry. You are absolutely useless in a fight" Draco panted angrily, as Harry continued to laugh at the ridiculous sight of Draco sprawled across the floor as two blonde haired children ran up and down his back, giggling madly.

"Well, pretend you're at a spa" Harry suggested before bursting out into laughter again at Draco's indignant expression.

But before Harry could continue making fun of Draco, the shrill cries from the twins cut through the air again.

"ATTACK!"

And Harry was knocked onto the floor.

Draco stood up slowly, brushing the dust off his very expensive trench coat.

"DRACO! SAVE ME!" Harry shrilled.

Draco smirked.

"Bite harder my precious devils! And make sure to kick him between the legs. Uncle Harry finds that funny."

Ah, what a wonderful Christmas it was going to be.


	62. Reading

_The_ _following is a fic of Harry and Draco reading the traditional poem-"The night before christmas". I know some of you might find Draco's comments mildly offensive because-let's face it, he is snarky. But well-for those who don't mind- I hope you enjoy it. I wrote it JUST before christmas i.e. 11pm! And only found the time to post it now. For my long time readers-I'd just like to know if you would like to read more about the orphanage and such. Or any requests/suggestions. To all my new readers: HELLO! I am very honoured. Merry Christmas you all. And a happy new year! :D_

Reading

"_Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house  
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."_

"Are you serious?" Draco scoffed. "What, they all sleep as still as corpses?" Drago yowled in agreement, especially at the bit about the mouse. All mice scurried about in the night. Except in Drago's house. There were no mice in Drago's house. He made sure of that.

"Hush. It's just a muggle poem. Let me continue reading." Harry admonished gently, before continuing.

"_The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there."  
_  
"That's the fat man right?" Draco cut in loudly but quelled visibly at Harry's glare.

"_The children were nestled all snug in their beds,  
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads."_

"Seriously? Sugar plums? I'd know what I'd rather have visions of." Draco smirked while letting his eyes rove up and down Harry-who was in nothing more than a pair of silk bottoms and a fitting white shirt. Definitely better than random desserts.

Harry blushed slightly but ploughed ahead.

"_And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,  
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap."_

"They wear hats indoors! How utterly plebian and rude! Imagine all the hat hair!" Draco commented snarkily before shuddering at the thought.

Harry sighed at the interruption but continued all the same.

_"When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.  
Away to the window I flew like a flash,  
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash."_

"Is it just me or is all this rhyming really forced. Who on earth flies like a flash! And what sash? They use a sash to tie up shutters? Do you even tie up shutters?" Draco muttered irritatedly-obviously not impressed.

"Draco, please?" Harry asked sweetly, lifting the small book slightly as if to remind Draco that he was after all reading for him.

"_The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow  
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.  
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer."_

Drago gave a loud meow at that. Draco merely raised his eyebrow. "The fat man is pulled by miniature reindeer. That has to be THE Christmas miracle"

"_With a little old driver, so lively and quick,  
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.  
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,  
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!"_

Draco clapped his hands excitedly as Harry smiled indulgently. "I know this! I know this! One of them has an awfully red nose and nobody loves him! I heard this at the muggle grocery store last week!" Draco declared, proud of his knowledge.

Harry laughed and gave Draco a kiss for his efforts. "That's Rudolf. But I don't think he plays a part here."

_"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!  
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!  
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!  
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"  
_

"Where's Rudolf! Did his nose get too big and too red to take off?" Draco asked, looking rather put off at having been wrong. "He's just not part of this version, okay?" Harry explained. Draco rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'dumb muggles' before snaking his way into Harry's arms and gesturing lazily with his fingers for Harry to continue.

"_As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.  
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,  
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too."_

"They carried the fat man AND toys? Were they heavily dosed with strengthening potions or something?" Draco asked, absolutely incredulous. Harry smiled and just held Draco slightly tighter with his free arm.

_"And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof  
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.  
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,  
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound."_

"Merlin's Balls! St Nicholas is a stalker! Quick! We have to block our chimney! I don't want some fat man molesting the presents I bought for you!" Draco exclaimed. "Hush. Just let me finish the poem."

_"He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,  
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.  
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,  
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack."_

Draco snorted. "More like a deranged pedophile" he drawled.

"_His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!  
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,  
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow."_

"The author must have been on hallucinatory potions. Whose mouth actually looks like a bow!" Draco ranted, obviously tired of the poem's rhyming descriptions. "Just a bit more, then we'll go to bed okay?" Harry bargained. Draco buried himself deeper into Harry's arms and said "Well get on with it then" Drago yowled his agreement.

_"The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,  
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.  
He had a broad face and a little round belly,  
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!"_

"Merlin's balls! He was THAT FAT! The image! My eyes!" Draco all but screamed as he buried his face into Harry's chest as if the jolly man himself was shaking his large belly before him.

_"He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,  
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!  
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread."_

"HARRY! STOP READING! This is a horrific poem! Twist of his head? Did it like come off? This is like some bad muggle horror poem!" Draco shouted into Harry's chest-his words muffled by Harry's shirt.

But Harry continued.

"_He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.  
And laying his finger aside of his nose,  
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!"_

Harry felt Draco breathe a sigh of relief. Drago, obviously amused padded to his side to give him a reassuring lick.

_"He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,  
'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!' "_

"There. Done. Now was that so bad?" Harry asked, ruffling Draco's hair a little with his now free left hand. "No! That was absolutely horrific! I am going to make a house elf stand guard at the fire place with strict orders to hex any fat, jelly-like man into the next century" Draco ranted while waving his fist about to make his point.

Harry laughed.

He tightened his arms around Draco, reveling in his warmth.

"Come on then, how about we retire for the night." Harry suggested.

"Hmmm. I'm quite comfortable where I am actually." Draco murmured hazily as Drago clambered onto his lap and made himself at home.

And so they stayed there, Harry, Draco and their adorable kitten, drowsing in front of the fire, on the night before Christmas.

A good-night it was indeed.


	63. Babysitting2

BABYSITTING

_A/N: A crappy update. I found it hard to write something from a kid's view with so many "Uncle" words. Ugh. Feedback is helpful?_

Kayla loves staying over at her Uncle Draco and Uncle Harry's place.

She only gets to go when mom and dad decide to go for something called a date. Of course Kayla doesn't really know what a date is. Harry tells her it's when her mom and dad go for candlelit dinners and hold hands by the pier. Draco tells her it's when her parents want to make out and "snog" each other's brains out. Kayla doesn't know what "snogging" is. But it sounds horrific.

Usually mom and dad drop her off around 530 on a Saturday night. Invariably, Draco is always reading on the couch. He usually raises an eyebrow at her arrival. It is Harry who sweeps her off her feet and twirls her about. But it's Draco's welcoming drawl that she somehow loves the most. "Ah, the mini weasel with brains has returned." She hopes she never loses her brains to "snogging".

Harry does the cooking on Saturdays. They have house elves, but apparently Saturday nights are special. Of course mom doesn't approve of the house elves. But Draco always waves away any complaints before making a long speech about his hands and skin and how they were not meant for hard labor. Harry usually stares at Draco a lot during these speeches, like he was the best television show in the world. Except that Kayla thinks that Uncle Draco is definitely much prettier than Barney or Big bird. She's quite sure Uncle Harry agrees with her.

Draco does the reading every Saturday night. He sits on the couch by the fireplace with Harry at his side and Kayla stuffed in between. He reads stories from his childhood collection of books. Kayla loves the stories. But, for some reason, all the princes are blonde with grey eyes. Kayla wonders if maybe her Uncle Draco is actually a prince in disguise. Harry has never heard the stories either so he listens with big wide eyes- taking in Draco's every word. Kayla's not sure because she usually has her eyes closed, but she suspects that the abrupt pauses between parts of the story are because Uncle Harry is stealing kisses. Naughty Uncle Harry. Sometimes, Kayla also wonders if her Uncle Harry is maybe a princess in disguise.

Kayla loves her Uncle Draco and Uncle Harry. She loves how Draco rolls his eyes at her yet tweaks her on the nose affectionately. She loves how Harry makes sandwiches in the shape of stars for both her and Draco yet somehow only feeds them to Draco. She loves spending time in their arms listening to stories of daring blonde princes and their stubborn, green eyed princesses. She loves them. And somehow, she knows, at the tender age of 3, that they love each other very much. The daughter of Hermione Granger, she was indeed. But then it doesn't take much to figure that one out, does it?

"Harry? The mini Weasel-brat is drooling in her sleep again. I can _feel_ it. "

"Oh shut up. You know you love her."

"This love doesn't extend to her saliva."

"Liar."


	64. Heartbreaking

**Heartbreaking**

_A/N: Well, it's obvious Harry Potter has fans/stalkers. So I thought it'd be nice to show that Draco had fans/stalkers too. Hope you guys like it._

Edgar Dubois still clearly remembers the first time he met Draco Malfoy. It was his first day on the job. He was fresh out of Beauxbaton. Utterly new to the real world and oh so confident he'd shine. How wrong he had been.

His job had sounded grand indeed- Assisting Accountant in the finance department of the British Ministry. Little did he know it was little more than a synonym for office slave. On his first day of work, he was asked to sort through the bills of the Auror department for the whole of March; hospital bills, transport bills, bills for exploding gum balls, bills for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes instant swamps, even bills for thread. THREAD! He was a mess by lunch time. His carefully picked out dress robes stained with ink and his hair a frazzled disaster. And then they had called him in to see the head of the finance department – Draco Malfoy.

He had felt so awkward in that near-perfect office. The burnished red wood cupboards and matching desk, the rows of well kept accounting manuals, and most importantly Draco Malfoy himself- his perfect blonde head bent over in deep concentration. Edgar had felt like such a slob.

Coughing nervously, he had caught Draco's attention. And when his boss had lifted up his head, his breath had caught in his throat. Draco Malfoy was perfect.

All he had gotten was a raised eyebrow and the paltry words "First day huh? Well, welcome on board then." And yet, he was lost. Edgar Dubois had fallen in love-lust with his boss on the first day of work.

Of course he knew Draco Malfoy was taken. How could he not? Who didn't know? Who in the wizarding world could be so ignorant? The Malfoy-Potter romance was legendary. Shocking. News-worthy. Utterly romantic.

Utterly heartbreaking for Edgar.

Edgar was actually a very handsome young man. The Beauxbaton year book had described him as the epitome of tall dark and handsome. And they were right. By the end of his first month at work, he had had offers for dinner dates from almost half the department. Some of them were old enough to be his parents. But the one man he wanted so much didn't even deign to look in his direction.

The one company lunch where he had managed to squirm his way into a seat beside Draco-oh how happy he had been! And yet, he had found out more about "Harry" in those conversations than he had about Draco himself.

Edgar hated Harry Potter.

He could not understand how someone so stunningly perfect as Draco Malfoy could be in love with someone as uncouth as Harry Potter. Perhaps, there was some rustic charm about the messy black hair and the bright green eyes. But, let's face it, compared to Draco Malfoy's perfect countenance, Harry Potter's messy haired-careworn-clothes-look was utterly plebian. And the boy-who-lived-to steal-Edgar's-true-love, had the cheek to go on missions! Missions! To swamps and jungles and other equally ridiculous places- leaving Draco in an empty, cold, house. Perfect Draco- who would then come to work with dark circles under his eyes and snap at everyone. Including Edgar.

Oh how Edgar hated Harry Potter.

Oh how Edgar had plotted. He schemed. He stayed late with Draco. He brought him his coffee. He worked hard. He shined. He fought for Draco's attention. And yet, all he got was an approving nod each time. Not a flicker of affection. Not even a smidge.

At first, he had convinced himself that it was because Draco Malfoy was a circumspect man-not prone to outward shows of affection.

Then, Harry Potter had decided to drop by.

They were having a board meeting, glass windows separating the large round table from the corridor. Everyone was listening as Draco gave a breakdown of the next months tasks. Edgar was riveted by Draco's lilting, confident tone. Then suddenly, the most mesmerizing smile had broken across Draco's face. Edgar had never seen something so perfect. Edgar had never seen Draco show so much affection. Edgar had never seen anyone show that much love in just one smile.

For a split second, Edgar had thought that perfect smile was meant for him. But his rational mind knew- just knew, that it could not. Expectedly, it was not. For Harry Potter had just walked pass the corridor behind Edgar. The smile, was for no one other than Harry Potter.

Oh how Edgar hated Harry Potter.

It was a smile that shattered all Edgar's hopes. For that smile was not one of passing fancy. Neither was it one of great lust. It was a smile that spoke of forever. It was a smile reserved for that special someone. It was a smile of shared secrets under blankets and laughter in the kitchen. It was a smile for soul mates.

And it was a smile Draco wore only for Harry Potter.

Edgar had no hope. Not a smidge.

* * *

"So, Draco, I saw that you have a new addition to your department? That dark haired, handsome boy who was drooling at you?" Harry asked casually.

"Who? Edgar!?" Draco exclaimed, incredulous.

"Yes, he was practically salivating onto the table?" Harry replied, hand moving through Draco's soft blonde hair distractedly.

"MY ITALIAN IMPORTED HANDMADE REDWOOD CONFERENCE TABLE!?" Draco shouted, almost leaping off Harry in his agitation.

Harry chuckled. "You didn't notice?"

"WAIT! Did you just call him handsome?" Draco shouted, craning his neck to turn and glare at Harry.

"Well he is, isn't he?" Harry retorted pointedly.

"That's it- I'm firing his dark-haired-arse and sending him to Somalia" Draco declared , whipping his head back and settling back into Harry's arms in a huff.

Harry laughed more, and wrapped his arms tighter around Draco.

"Don't, it's okay, he could never compare to you." Harry said placatingly.

"Yes well, that's because I'm god's gift to beauty." Draco declared haughtily, burying himself deeper into Harry's embrace.

Harry smiled and kissed _his _Draco's perfect blonde head.

"That you are, my love- that you are."

And somewhere, many miles away, Edgar, crying his eyes out, couldn't agree more.


	65. Imagining

A/N: Can you guess who's point of view is this? And of whom is it speaking of? :)

* * *

He thinks he's god's gift to mankind.

He believes there is no man better than he.

He struts. He swaggers. He parades across the world that is his stage.

And when he really gets into it, he refers to himself in the third person.

Sadly, though, you know the truth.

And he is sorely mistaken.

He is not the handsomest man alive.

Neither is he the smartest, nor the most charming.

He is definitely not the most devious. Neither is he the most conniving.

He sneers a bit too much and smirks more than he smiles.

His face is a bit too pointed and his ears are almost too angular to be purely human.

His hair curls at the ends when wet and though he tries to hide it desperately, he actually blushes like a little girl-just across the cheek bones.

His body is all angles and his legs are actually too long for the rest of him.

His laughter sounds surprised and gleeful. It definitely is not the evil and foreboding cackle he thinks he has.

He walks more like a Victoria Secrets model on the runway than with the Snape-like- glide he thinks he possesses.

His jokes make almost no sense at all and his evil plans for world dominance-they always degrade into grand plans to hoard chocolate.

He's odd. He's eccentric. He doesn't really live in the same reality as you do.

He is definitely not as perfect as he believes himself to be.

Definitely not.

But, well.

He's definitely perfect enough for you.

You actually love his pointy chin. You find his elf-like ears sexy and you love tracing the angles of his body. You love how he laughs like he never knew he could be this happy because honestly, you sometimes feel the same way. And you actually quite like how he how he sneers at everyone but you. You find the way he walks utterly mesmerising, and you never liked Snape that much anyway. You actually enjoy his off-tangent jokes and find his failed plans endearing. Besides, you never actually wanted to rule the world anyway.

So when he tells you of his own perfection, you can't help but laugh and nod in agreement.

Because, well, he blushes so prettily when you agree. And you can't help but imagine him in a dress with blonde pigtails when he does.

Secretly, of course.

* * *

A/N: P.s. this by no means is about cross dressing. It's just that sometimes, our imaginations run a little wild :P


	66. Coping

_For those who continue to read-_

**Coping**

It hurts. That space just below where his ribs meet. It more than hurts- it feels like there is a gaping hole where whatever is there should be. Except he's pretty sure his heart is somewhere higher up and to the left. Maybe he's dying of an incurable disease. Maybe it's a peptic ulcer. Maybe it's just indigestion.

He wonders if he should floo Harry. To ask him how the weather was over there. To ask Harry if he knows what the kitten should have for dinner. To ask Harry if the meetings were fun. To ask Harry if he missed him. To ask Harry if he was okay without him to hold. To hear Harry laugh. To hear Harry whisper his name. To hear Harry breath.

But he doesn't. As that would be a bit too creepy. And Malfoy-dignity, he needed to preserve some of that.

The house is too clean. There are no socks strewn haphazardly about. There is no mud tracked across the hallway by soccer boots. There aren't any loose galleons on the coffee table. The bed is made. The house is definitely too clean indeed.

There is no one to tell him how ridiculous he looks as he slumps by the stairs. There is no one to tell him to stop training the kitten to pee on the Weasel. There is no one to stop him when he eats only ice cream for dinner. No one to cuddle him to sleep. No one to wake him up with a kiss. No one there at all. Except maybe the kitten, but Drago doesn't count as Drago can't kiss him goodnight- not really at least.

He doesn't have to wait to use the toilet in the morning. He doesn't have to fight for the remote. He doesn't have to suffer through hours of muggle music. He doesn't even need to snatch the covers back. He doesn't have to do much at all. He wishes he did.

It's only been four days.

And already the hollow space is growing.

He resolves to see the Healer in the morning.

But he doesn't go in the end because Harry's not there to insist that he does. Maybe dying of an incurable disease wasn't that bad after all.

He misses Harry. Maybe a little too much for it to be healthy- but he does all the same.

He misses Harry. So he wears Harry's still-oversized clothes and plays the muggle trash Harry so loves to inflict upon his delicate ears. He asks the house elves to cook Harry's favourite foods and feeds it to Drago instead. He uses his wand to scatter Harry's socks about the house, and for good measure, zooms Harry's underwear across the bedroom and living room with a flick of his wand.

He misses Harry so much, he is tempted to dump all Harry's clothes across the floor and roll about in them. He just misses the way Harry smells. Sometimes he wonders if Harry's habit of calling him "crazy" was a bit too appropriate. Then again, it may just be that missing Harry has driven him insane.

He decides to do it all the same.

And when the lock turns on the day that Harry is supposed to return- Draco almost trips on Harry's favourite white shirt that has fallen- stretched across the bedroom doorway.

He thinks he hears it tear, just a little. Oh well.

As Draco leaps across the mess of socks in the hallway into Harry's arms- he thinks, that maybe that odd feeling was indigestion after all. After all, Draco feels absolutely fine suddenly- finally.

Reassured that he isn't dying- Draco buries himself in Harry's arms. And Harry's steady beating heart reassures Draco that _his_ Harry was truly home.

Draco resolves to go to the Healer anyway. Because now that Harry was home, dying of an incurable disease would be incredibly bad timing indeed.

_"Hey Draco? It's nice to be home and all but what's my underwear doing hanging off the bookshelf?"_

Besides, on the way out Draco could drop by Madam Malkins. After all, he did owe Harry a new white shirt.

_"Oh my god! What happened to my closet! Did it explode?"_


	67. Watching

WATCHING

_For those who can't help but watch those they love- as stalker like as it may be_

You watch as he sleeps.

His face framed by his messy black hair- so stark against the white sheets.

You watch as the sun slowly inches its way up to his eyes and you smirk to yourself as his eyebrows furrow with each passing inch.

He's mesmerising and you know it's almost obsessive but you continue to watch him sleep anyway.

And when he wakes, with a stretch and an oddly plaintive whine- your eyes quickly flip to the book you were idly holding.

At least this time, you had it the right side up.

You watch as he gets ready for work.

His shirt is rumpled from the 5 minute nap he took after he put it on. His messy hair is only half combed. And his specs are lopsided. He looks dishevelled- utterly so- and you wish you were the reason why.

But you're not.

So you content yourself with imagining you were.

You watch as he eats his breakfast.

I'll be back late today- he tells you as he chews on his breakfast. He drops crumbs everywhere and you can't help but cringe.

He blushes a bit as you brush away what you can.

I'm in a rush- he tells you, pouting slightly.

He's always in a rush anyway.

You watch as he slips his hand into yours.

It's the favourite part of your day.

You watch as his much darker-sun baked- hand slips into your pale slimmer one. You watch as his fingers criss-cross with yours.

And what's left of your sleepy haze melts away.

You watch as he bends his head close to yours and smiles.

It's a small smile.

It's a contented smile.

He's ready for a new day.

And with his hand in yours - you're ready too.


	68. Singing

Singing

Harry can't sing.

Of course, he tries. But Harry just can't.

He can't keep the rhythm. He can't hit the notes and he can't even remember the words!

No- he can't sing.

But he can try.

And try- he does.

It's off tune. It's off kilter. It's just completely off.

But he does try.

Draco remembers the first song he ever sang for Draco. It was a garbled mix of a Wyrd Sisters and a Rod Wizard classic. Draco's not sure.

It was terrible.

The worst rendition of any song- ever.

And yet-

It was Draco who requested an encore.

Yes- Harry can't sing.

Yes- Harry sounds terrible.

But, honestly speaking, Draco doesn't really care.

After all-Draco doesn't need him to be a Rockstar.

Draco only needs Harry to be his.

And when Harry tries to sing for Draco-Draco knows he is.

It's enough.


	69. Confessing

A/N: For those who continue to read...

You almost fall off the chair when the words tumble off his lips- so easily, so naturally.

"Oh, I do so love you"

Six simple words.

So deceptively casual, so cavalier, and so…perfect

"Oh, I do so love you"

It rings across the room and quite possibly, in your mind, reverberates across the universe.

"Oh, I do so love you"

You are sure there are no sweeter words in the world.

They weren't a confession. You can tell- they were a realisation.

He loves you.

Draco loves you!

And your heart skips a beat or two.

"Oh, I do so love you"

You smirk, trying to hide your boundless elation. But your smirks are not worth half of his.

Dignity; you try to maintain it.

But the words tear at your resolve.

"Oh, I do so love you"

It echoes through your soul.

And you can't help the breathless whisper that slips past your lips.

"Really?"

He looks stunned for a moment. A bit like how your cat looks like when it's caught stealing cream.

But the moment is but a moment.

His lips quirk in that whimsical, self- amused smile you love.

"Maybe, if you're a good boy..."

His words are teasing, but his eyes answer all your doubts.

Your heart soars.

And you're sure that you're at least 2 inches above the ground.

"Oh, I do so love you"

Such a short phrase- such a careless declaration.

"Oh, I do so love you"

And yet- years later, you still feel it bouncing off the walls of your heart.

_"Oh, I do so love you"_

_"Really?"_

_"Maybe, if you're a good boy..."_

_"Well, I love you even if you're not good"_

_"Hogwash, I'm always good"_

_" Correction then, I love you even if you're a flagrant liar" _

_"Better...and I love you too, you idiot"_


	70. Waiting3

A/N: For those who continue to read, thank you. But, it is possible, that all good things must come to an end...

* * *

You watch the clock with the same studied attention with which you do everything.

You're almost positive that time has slowed to a crawl.

One seconds, two seconds, three.

Time barely passes.

He's coming home tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Soon, you will get to feel his arms around you, hear his laughter echo through your now-too-empty-house.

Your heart skips a beat at the thought.

He's coming home tomorrow. He's coming home in twelve hours – and you can barely sleep from the anticipation.

You know it's ridiculous, but you do it anyway. You do it every time, even though he always asks you not to.

You admit that staying up does make you a tad grumpy. But really, it's better this way.

You relish waking to the sound of his key turning the lock, the jiggle of the slightly stubborn doorknob and finally the whoosh of air that follows as he throws the door open. You love waking to the sound of his gleeful shout of "honey, I'm home!" as he walks into the living room, his keys providing a jangling accompaniment as he tosses them haphazardly on the coffee table.

You love it, adore it, crave it, have been waiting for days for it.

So even if it means you'll have to wake at eleven in the afternoon, you'll wait for it; wake for it.

So you continue to count the seconds. It is yet too early to retire.

One more second, two more seconds. Three.

You're sure time is laughing at you.

+A+A+A+A

You fall asleep soon enough. The gentle purr of your now-almost-grown cat, and the tick-tock drone of the clock lull you towards the inevitable.

His green eyes swim and twinkle before you just before you lose your grip on consciousness

One seconds, two seconds, three.

You dream of him. Of course you do. Who or what else could you dream of?

You dream a convoluted mix of memories and fantasies. You see him as he spins you round and round in your living room. You see him as he trips on the rug and lands face first. You see him as he climbs the tree to rescue your errant broom. You see him as he moves in close to press soft kisses on your nose. You see him as he laughs, his nose slightly scrunched up and his cheeks a little rosy from the exertion. You see him. Only him, and the dreams continue…

+A+A+A+A

It's possible that you miscalculated. You don't wake to the sound of his keys at the door. You don't even wake when he throws the door open too wide and it slams into the coat rack. You definitely don't wake when he calls out his usual cheeky greeting. Even the clatter of keys against glass doesn't wake you.

You definitely miscalculated, but you'll never admit it. You'll tell him that this time; you just couldn't sleep from all that pining. You'll lie with a smile on your lips, knowing full well that he won't believe you. You miscalculate more often than you'll admit.

He finds you on the bed, barely under the covers, hands reaching to his side of the bed.

He finds you, and you miss the smile of contentment that steals across his face.

You miss the mischievous grin that follows too.

+A+A+A+A

You're sulking again. You know you shouldn't, because he's just returned, but you do anyway. You're still shivering slightly from his icy cold touch. Definitely not how you had planned on waking.

He laughs lightly and kisses you on your nose. He promises that next time he'll warm his hands first, and you glare at him, daring him to imply otherwise.

He laughs again.

One second, two seconds. Three.

You can barely contain the smile that sneaks up on you.

He's home.

And time, finally moves at a reasonable pace.


	71. Reading2

_Reading_

Contrary to popular belief, Draco did not spend most of his school days plotting the demise of Harry Potter. Nor did he spend his days plotting how to get into Potter's bed. No, in all actuality, he spent most of his days in the library.

Yes, the library.

Not the non-fiction section, of course. That was for total weirdoes like Granger- now- Weasley. Instead, Draco spent his days secreted in a secluded corner of the fiction section.

He spent some days in Africa, with intrepid explorers, hunting down rare breeds of dragons. Other days, he spent in Iceland looking for Ice fairies and defeating rabid Yetis. There were days he ventured into the muggle world, systematically destroying their plebeian forces, but occasionally he would fall prey to their evil contraptions. There were then days where he was part of the royal secret service; when he defeated villainy and was celebrated by all. Those days he liked the best.

It was a form of escape. He spent his days reading, and his nights dreaming of what he read. They were better than the nightmares.

Now, the nightmares have fled cowering from his very own dark-lord-defeating boyfriend. But Draco still reads.

He just doesn't do it alone anymore.

He reads with Harry, who honestly, would never read anything otherwise.

He reads to him about intrepid deeds of the secret Auror Service. He reads to him about the beauty of a sunrise in Thailand and the serenity of moonshine in the North Pole. He reads to him about a world without magic, he reads to him about worlds with different types of magic; ones without wands or words.

On weeknights they read by the fireplace, curled under blankets. On the weekends they read by the bay window, the sun glinting off Draco's hair as Harry runs his hand through it. On rainy days, they read under the covers, sometimes by firelight, sometimes with the help of Draco's wand.

He reads and reads- and Harry revels in the blanket of his steady narrative.

He reads, and Harry, the hero of so many stories, for once becomes Draco's faithful companion in his own adventures.

_A/N: If you still read this- I am honoured . If you still read, I will continue to write._


	72. Napping

**Napping**

There is something surprisingly comforting about the sound of crashing waves. It's almost hypnotic. The accompanying rush of sea foam, almost like a herd of wild, white horses racing up the sand. Sunlight glints off oddly shaped pebbles in the uneven sand. Around you, you can hear the muffled laughter of children, their high pitched giggling blanketed by the sound of the sea. The wind whips your slightly longer blonde hair about but it barely touches his shorter, darker hair. The waves continue to crash against the shore.

He's sleeping. He's possibly snoring. But again, the roar of the sea hides most of it. His head is warm on your lap. You don't mean to complain, but it is rather heavy, and he has this horrible habit of lolling his head about in his sleep. You try very hard to remember if he has ever drooled in his sleep. The waves continue to dance over the sand.

His chest rises and falls in tandem with yours. Your hand can't help but work its way through his hair. Your breathing can't help but slow to match his. The breeze is cool. But his warmth seeps through you. Or that could be sweat. You are unsure. Then again, you don't care. The waves continue to race up the shore.

You are content. It's a wonderful day, barring, of course, the bug that tried to make its way up your back, to your hair. You think– this is what bliss is. On your lap, you can feel him stirring. A smile steals across your face as he grimaces a bit and wipes away the drops of rain from the passing sun shower minutes ago. He cracks his left eye open and looks at you questioningly. "Are you bored?" he asks, concern lacing his words. You think about how you just spent the last twenty minutes watching him sleep. But the words that leap to the tip of your tongue consist of "never", "not with you around." You shudder at the thoughts. You fear you are degenerating into a Hufflepuff.

"Nah, you sleep talk. It's hilarious." You reply with a smirk. He eyes you with only his left eye, smiling. "Liar" he replies, with a roll of his eyes. Yes you are, but you'd never admit it. He settles back down on your lap, rolling his shoulders and wriggling his head back to a comfortable position. You are tempted to push his head off, just because you can. But you don't. You never do.

The sea continues to dance across the sand.

The waves crash and your breaths play cadence to the sounds of the shore.

And you think to yourself- maybe, just maybe, you could really do this "forever" thing.


End file.
